


Accepted

by Arkada



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: But so are Loki's, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, FrostIron - Freeform, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn with pretensions of plot, Tony's priorities are messed up, hints of Dom/Sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkada/pseuds/Arkada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony’s less of an Avenger and more of an Avenger for hire - and that means his services are available to anyone who can pay the price. So when Loki shows up and asks for a consultation, it’d just be bad practice to turn him down.</p><p>Loki doesn’t exactly pay by credit card. No, he’s offering something much more appealing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. StarkPhone

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally the rights to The Avengers.

“Mr. Stark,” says an oil-smooth voice behind him, and that’s as far as Loki gets before Tony spins around, throws his wrench blindly in Loki’s direction, and shouts for Jarvis to lock down the Tower and get the Avengers here.

Loki raises his hands placatingly and walks forward, completely undisturbed by the wrench; Tony glances past him and sees it lying on the floor nowhere near where the path through Loki’s head should have taken it. Loki keeps coming closer, leather coat swaying with every step, and Tony stands his ground because he knows what Loki can do and moving back won’t make any difference to the time it would take Loki to kill him.

“Jarvis…?” he says, because Jarvis hasn’t answered him, and this is bad, very bad.

“Peace, Mr. Stark,” Loki says, and smiles like that might make him look less dangerous. “I am not here to harm you.”

He stops just inside Tony’s personal space bubble, and tilts his head, clearly wondering what Tony’s going to do about it.

Tony faces down media hordes, Fury, and Pepper on a day-to-day basis. He can handle one psychotic Norse god, right? “Well, excuse me for not taking the word of the God of Lies at face value.”

Loki shrugs one shoulder, way too elegantly for his own good. “Believe it or not as you wish, but I seek nothing but a favor.”

“A favor.” Where the hell is his team? And why hasn’t Jarvis said anything?

If the team’s not here by now then they’re not coming, and if Loki’s downed Jarvis then he’s not coming back. Tony’s on his own.

“Yes.” Loki leans in a little bit closer, all menacing height and pretty green eyes-

What the _fuck?_

Panic, that’s what that was, panic making him think crazy things, because of course Loki’s eyes aren’t pretty, look at them - all bright and deep and emotive, who’d want those?

“I am reliably informed that Stark Industries manufactures the best technology this world has to offer.”

Okay, non-sequitur like whoa. “Yes…”

Loki smiles again. “Thor will tell you that I never settle for anything but the best.”

“Right…”

“I also believe that, for a special fee, the StarkPhone can be custom-built to the buyer’s specifications.”

How does Loki know so much about consumer culture and technology in general and Stark Industries in particular? Thor still doesn’t believe that pop-tarts aren’t made in the supermarket!

“All true.”

“So.” Loki spreads his hands, the picture of reasonableness. “I desire such a phone. As to your fee, I am aware that no amount of money given to you now would make you any richer. I also highly doubt you would wish payment from any sources I have access to. So.”

Then there’s a rush as Loki drops, a _thunk_ as his knees hit the floor, and Tony looks down to see the dark head leaning in towards his crotch and-

Okay, that’s definitely far enough!

“The _hell_ do you think you’re doing?”

Loki tips his head back and meets Tony’s eyes, one eyebrow raised in a skeptical yet graceful arch. “I assumed you wanted payment up front. Was I wrong?”

Payment?

Oh, _right_.

Tony’s hands go damp - really his whole body goes damp, and his blood starts swirling down his body to his groin. But even he is not about to take this no questions asked. “Well, yeah, but give a guy some _warning_.”

Loki sighs like he’s dealing with an idiot, but his glance up isn’t quite as scathing as he was probably aiming for. “I am going to take your cock in my mouth and show you why they call me Silvertongue until you come down my throat. I am going to swallow every drop of your seed and find my own pleasure or not at your command. And when you can stand without shaking, you are going to make me a StarkPhone to my exact description.”

“Oh.”

Okay, he’s technically an Avenger, so supplying the enemy probably counts as treason, not to mention he’ll be pulp if Thor _ever_ finds out what Tony’s about to do to his baby brother. But Loki could just buy a phone at any stand in the city, or hold a knife to Tony’s neck instead - it’s not like Tony can actually _stop_ him from getting a phone, and if Tony makes it himself he’ll know exactly what it does.

And Loki looks _fantastic_ down there, on his knees, waiting patiently for Tony’s word, head tipped back so his long black hair looks even longer, showing off the tall pale column of his throat, the tails of his coat spread across the floor-

And Tony’s told the others plenty of times that he’s _not_ a hero.

“Accepted.”

He is kind of a jerk, though, which is why when he pushes his hips forward, he also stretches his arms up and tucks his hands behind his head.

Loki gives him a little bit of a glare, enough to let Tony know that he’s perfectly aware that Tony’s making him do all the work, but it’s apparently not a deal-breaker. 

Long white fingers reach out for Tony’s belt, pull the end through the loops of his jeans and unbuckle it slowly. Loki’s touch is delicate and measured, perfectly in control, nothing like the crazy wildly-flung spells he prefers to fight them with. Tony’s belt falls open, and Loki takes the button of his jeans and pops it, and leans in and-

And takes the zipper between his teeth and draws it down smoothly, his breath curling over Tony’s cock in his boxers, and maybe Tony hadn’t noticed exactly how hard he was before but now that his jeans suddenly aren’t holding him back, he can tell that he could hammer nails.

_Must never mention this to Thor._

_Don’t even_ think _about Thor!_

Loki’s hands push Tony’s tee a little higher, and slip down over his bared waist to pull his jeans and boxers down in one go. Tony shivers in the sudden coolness of the air, not to mention the realization that _this is actually happening,_ and Loki literally makes a _shh_ noise at him. 

He stops halfway-down Tony’s thighs, just low enough that his clothes won’t get in his way, and sets both hands on Tony’s ass and pulls him forwards as his mouth drops open.

And there’s no way Tony can resist an invitation like _that._

He slides slowly into the wet velvet heat of Loki’s mouth and groans, head falling back already, because it feels too good not to, _Loki_ feels too good. His mouth’s wide, not one hint of teeth, just smooth humid soft touches all around him, and Loki’s hands are firm and insistent as they pull him closer, until the head of Tony’s cock bumps the back of Loki’s mouth and Tony jerks at the sudden pressure.

Loki brings his lips down tight around him, about two-thirds to the base, and swallows.

The suction rolls down along his cock like a tsunami and Tony makes some kind of noise he can’t even _hear_ over the pounding of his heart. One of his hands has found the table behind him and it’s probably the only thing keeping him from collapsing, and his other is threaded through Loki’s inky hair.

“Right, okay… Okay.”

Loki moves back and lifts his tongue, licking Tony slowly as he pulls off, and suddenly the air’s _so_ cold and Tony shudders, fists the hand in Loki’s hair, and drags him back down. Loki hums, just a little, barely enough to feel, but it sends shivers up Tony’s spine. He’s still mostly dressed and the tee and jeans are constrictive, far too tight, smothering him. He needs to _breathe_ , to writhe and struggle and lose himself, and _fuck_ into Loki’s mouth until he’s too far gone to even think.

He chokes, and pushes in further, and the resistance at the back of Loki’s mouth just vanishes and he slides down into the clenching tightness of Loki’s throat. Loki tips his head back and inches closer, and then his lips hit Tony’s groin and the warm puff of Loki’s breath tickles him.

His whole cock is surrounded by skin, wet and warm and perfect, wrapping him completely, the hotter throb of Loki’s tongue lying along the underside and the firmer grip of his actual throat around Tony’s head, and his hands on Tony’s ass flex and _pull_ him in even harder until there’s no way Loki can be breathing. 

 _Tony_ isn’t even breathing, he just pulls back a little and thrusts forward again, feels the movement and the texture of Loki’s tongue, and does it again and again, fucks the throat of the Norse god on his _knees_. Tony’s skin’s getting tight and he can feel climax building up inside him, an electrical charge that’s about to get too high and burst any minute-

Loki pulls away, slow and smooth, and Tony jerks on his hair to pull him back and he doesn’t move an inch. Tony’s cock slips from his mouth and hangs bobbing in the air between them, and he barely keeps his hands where they are instead of jacking himself off because he’s so _close_ , it’s unbearable, teetering on the edge of a cliff and he just wants to fall over already. 

He drops his head forward to see what the hell Loki thinks he’s playing at, and Tony gets a good look at his face, the high flush on his cheeks and burning intensity in his eyes, the way strands of his hair are sticking to his skin and the wet shine over his lips. Loki’s tongue flickers out, snakelike, and he stretches it forward.

And does something absolutely _wicked_ to Tony’s head, spirals and twists and mathematically perfect patterns, Tony can _feel_ them, and when he grabs Loki’s head in both hands and buries himself back in Loki’s mouth Loki lets him because he promised that Tony would come-

He comes down Loki’s throat just like he said, wrung out and gasping and dizzy like all the blood in his body’s being sucked out along with his come.

Loki swallows and Tony nearly screams at the pressure, at how _much_ he feels, Loki’s mouth all but crushing him, and his hands are shaking and his knees are about to buckle but he grips Loki’s hair hard and pulls him off. 

Loki tongues at Tony’s slit as he goes and it feels like Loki’s licking the entire inside of his body and Tony shudders, but then Loki’s mouth is gone and Tony can actually feel other parts of his body. His toes have curled so hard they might be fused to his feet, and his fists are so full of Loki’s hair that it’s got to be painful for him, and Loki’s fingers are moving on his ass in what could almost be little stroking motions.

Tony drops his hands and Loki drops his, and Tony’s left completely empty and exposed. He falls back a little, catches himself with a forearm on the table behind him, and flinches at Loki’s touch as he’s tucked back into his boxers and his jeans are pulled up.

He feels like he’s been electrocuted. He feels like he’s swum over a waterfall.

He feels like he’s just been blown by a god.

Tony sees Loki stand through the foggy haze, elegant and composed apart from all the ways in which he’s not, and Tony’s eyes run down his body and-

Oh.

And oh.

Loki’s tenting his leather pants, and his hips are rolling ever so slightly to get some friction without actually touching himself.

And if Tony had any doubts about Loki paying for a phone through what is probably technically prostitution, they’ve all gone out the window now.

“You said…” Tony’s throat is dry like he’s run a marathon. He swallows, _oh god Loki felt so good swallowing_ , and tries again. “You said I’d tell you whether or not you were allowed to come.”

Loki’s hands clench and press against his thighs like he’s forcing himself to wait for Tony’s orders. “I did.”

“Then I want to see you come in your pants.”

Wants to see Loki wrecked and filthy because _Tony_ told him to be.

And because if he actually sees Loki’s cock, he’s jumping on it, and that is not okay right now.

This is a business transaction, nothing more, no matter how pretty Loki’s eyes are or how hot his mouth is, and all Tony’s doing is getting the worth of a custom StarkPhone.

Nothing more.

Those things are expensive, really.

Loki’s eyes flare with what’s definitely lust - and it’s very like the look Tony had seen stalking towards him in his penthouse the day of the battle, and that’s something to think about at three in the morning with a drink - and his hand just _flies_ to grip the bulge of his cock through his pants. 

He gasps and drops his head back just like Tony did, long pale neck curved in a taut arch, and he kneads himself mercilessly hard, groping and squeezing, white fingers stark against the black leather, and it’s only about five whole seconds before he cries out and his body goes limp. 

He pants for breath and strokes himself, softer now, like he’s _petting_ himself for a job well done, and readjusts his pants and lifts his head back up.

He’s just as wrecked and filthy as Tony could have asked for, flushed and breathless and his hair all over the place, mouth hanging open like he’s lost the strength to close it. 

Fuck, he looks gorgeous.

Not that Tony’ll tell him, but that was worth a _lot_ more than one phone.

Loki shakes his head and twists his body a bit and somehow comes out of it looking chill and controlled without changing his actual appearance at all. He looks Tony over closely, head tilting, eyes narrowed, and nods, satisfied. His eyes fly back up to Tony’s. “About my phone, then.”

“Of course.” Because there’s no aftercare for something like this, with someone like this, this is a mutual exchange of services and that’s it. What else did Tony expect, really?

No, that’s not the question. What else did he _want?_  

And that’s not a good question either, and definitely not something he should actually _answer._

So he zips his lips - they didn’t even kiss, how unfair - and pushes himself to his feet and turns to the table formerly supporting most of his weight. He taps the surface to open a new file, starts with the latest StarkPhone model, and pulls the hologram wide to get at the components. “What are you after?”

He hears a rustle behind him and then Loki hands a folded piece of thick paper over Tony’s shoulder. “I am quite fussy about my things, and I thought your mortal memory insufficient to hold all my requirements.”

And if Tony didn’t already know his place in this whole arrangement, that’d put him in it pretty damn quick.

“Sure, no problem.” Tony takes it, unfolds it, and then stares at what’s got to be Loki’s handwriting.

It’s elegant, loopy yet perfectly legible, neat like it came out of a printer apart from the slight irregularities in the amount of ink. He must have been writing with a fountain pen or something - green ink, too, what a surprise. 

Longest battery physically possible, that’s reasonable and easy.

Carried by any company in range, not limited to one, and carried by satellite if there’s no tower close enough - tricky, but it’s not like he can’t do it.

A bunch of software stuff, menu formatting and aesthetics.

As powerful a camera as Tony can cram in there.

Untraceable number.

“And I mean untraceable by _anyone_ , Mr. Stark, including yourself.”

That’s the sort of thing that could give Loki a bit of power over SHIELD, the sort of thing Tony should probably hesitate about including.

“Not a problem.”

He swaps out the battery and camera with improved models too bulky for mass commercial use, and starts the hardware and software hacking to get it signal from anywhere.

“Hey, would you rather just have it go through satellite the whole time? Be a lot easier than convincing all the different services to give it up.”

From the corner of his eye he sees Loki move up to stand beside him, and lean in to peer closely at the hologram. “I suppose.”

Tony bins the current transmitter array and pulls one for a satellite phone instead. “It is a bit heavier, if it’s satellite all the time. Little thicker, too.”

“Go ahead.”

The hologram bulges to fit the new specifications, but that’s the hardware sorted. He should probably be trying to make this look harder - Loki paid good not-money for this, and if Tony ordered him to come that’s definitely worth more than waving some light around. 

Maybe he should assemble some of it by hand, that’d look impressive.

And why exactly does he want to impress Loki? He’s already blown Tony, it’s not like he can ask for his money back if he’s not satisfied.

Oh, because Loki might kill him if he gets the feeling Tony’s just using him for sex without holding up his end of the bargain. He wants Loki to think it was worth it.

He opens up the programming and starts tweaking it to Loki’s specifications. “This is the slow bit, so find a chair and there are snacks in the fridge.”

Because it’s just rude not to offer, that’s why. It’s not like he actually cares if Loki’s comfortable.

He’s a murdering psychotic god who’s attacked Tony and his friends on multiple occasions and there was the whole tried-to-take-over-the-world thing as well, and Tony hasn’t forgotten about any of that.

Nor is it completely irrelevant compared to his new knowledge that Loki is really good at sucking cock.

Nope.

He’s screwed.

He puts the menu items in the order that Loki wants, and it actually makes more logical sense, even if it is a little harder to navigate, than the current model; he pretties up the icons, because Loki asked for ‘not boring’ ones; he does stuff and drinks coffee and does more stuff, pushes his hair out of his eyes and blinks and the programming’s compiled and there’s a little holographic CD waiting to be dragged into the holographic phone.

Tony grabs, drags, and drops, and the hologram beeps, runs a bug-checker, and turns green. 

“Okay,” he says, and his voice is all raspy and dry so he drinks more coffee. It tastes like drain cleaner and feels like liquid gravel but it’s coffee so he forgives it. “I can manufacture that in about half an hour, didn’t invent anything new so the parts should be lying around, I’ll go hunting.”

“I appreciate your promptness,” Loki says, and Tony turns to him to see him sitting, legs indecently wide, on a stool, sipping at his own mug.

Tony glances down at his, and then at the quarter-full carafe sitting on the table beside Loki, out of Tony’s accidental hand-waving reach but well within range for refills.

Did Loki make him coffee?

No. No way. Tony must have made it himself and forgot. That’s the only answer. Loki already sucked him off, he didn’t need to give Tony coffee as well to get the job done.

So if Tony made it himself, why did he allow Loki to steal some of it? Programming code or not, he is _never_ too distracted to know what’s happening to his coffee.

So this wasn’t his coffee. Loki made it for both of them.

His head hurts. He drinks more coffee and pretends that makes it better.

Then he rips his eyes away from Loki’s long fingers folded around the mug and the red of his lips against the white ceramic. Phone. Loki’s here for a phone and nothing else. “This’d go quicker if you let me have Jarvis back.”

Loki’s eyebrows rise and he swallows, throat rippling. “Your servant has gone nowhere. I merely silenced it for the time being. I saw no reason to alert anyone else to my presence.”

“Ah.” Yes, on the one hand, reasonable and it worked out fairly well. On the other, “I don’t let anyone mess with Jarvis.”

Loki grimaces. “It was necessary. But I apologize.”

He waves his hand.

“ _I am indeed fully functional, sir._ ”

“Great to hear, Jarvis. Start manufacturing this design, will you, and keep quiet on the subject of the supervillain in my lab.”

“ _Certainly, sir. Apology accepted, Mr. Odinson._ ”

Loki snarls. “That’s Laufeyson.”

Ah, right. This is not-Thor’s-brother Loki. Or, possibly, not-Odin’s-son Loki. Loki’s never been completely clear exactly what he wants Thor to agree to in the course of their shouting matches every time they battle. Not-Odin’s-son is pretty consistent; not-Thor’s-brother tends to waver and sometimes doesn’t come up at all.

Tony knows how that feels. He’s not really Howard’s son, definitely not Obadiah’s foster son, and how he feels about his mother at any given time depends on a hundred other factors that are nothing to do with her. 

But no, he doesn’t need to be finding things in common with Loki. Really doesn’t.

So they sit and they drink coffee, and don’t talk because they’re not friends, Loki’s only still here because his phone’s not done yet and Tony’s only still here because he’s not leaving Loki alone in his lab.

That’s it. End of story.

No story at all, in fact.

He’s screwed _._

“ _Complete, sir_.”

Tony has no idea how long it took, but he’s still glad it didn’t take any longer. He jumps up and almost runs over to the manufacturing unit - he keeps it in his own lab because what with getting blown up, shot, and thrown into the Hudson regularly the Avengers go through phones at a ridiculous rate - and pulls out Loki’s shiny new baby.

It’s encased in gleaming dark green with gold highlights, slightly heavier and thicker than the usual thanks to the satellite pickup and the bigger, better camera. He turns and hands it to Loki, who’s followed him silently and that’s not nearly as creepy as it should be.

“All yours.”

Loki lifts it up to his eyes and looks it over closely, and smiles. “Very fine.”

And Loki may be the God of Lies but he has absolutely _no_ reason to be lying right now, which means he’s genuinely complimenting Tony’s work and Tony absolutely does not feel a warmth spreading through his chest.

The arc reactor needs servicing, that’s all.

And he doesn’t say, “So maybe next time you need something, you can text me before you drop in?”

So Loki can’t grin and tip his head in acknowledgement and say, “I will,” before disappearing.

Only he does.

He’s screwed. And he just invited Loki to come back and screw him again, and he can’t bring himself to regret it in the slightest.


	2. Gun

Tony is Tony.

And that means that he has done some monumentally stupid things in his life, starting with being born to Howard Stark and going from there. 

So trading an evil god a StarkPhone for a blowjob? Not even in the top ten.

Honestly, it’s not.

No, but really.

It’s actually one of the few true statements he’s made to himself since Loki dropped to his knees right in front of Tony, and more significantly, Tony’s crotch. Pretty much everything else he’s tried to convince himself of has been a blatant lie, like _no of course I’m focusing on this meeting and not wondering if Loki’s ever going to need anything else._

Fury drones on and on and like good little soldiers Steve and Thor and Clint and Natasha hang on his every word, and Bruce is still living in the headspace that if he doesn’t make himself useful they’ll kick him out at best, so he’s throwing everything he can into this. It’s Tony who’s the odd one out - what a surprise, he’s ignoring the briefing, what else is new - and checking his phone for new messages every three seconds.

Loki _said_ he’d text if he ever wanted anything else, after all.

But it’s not like this is a permanent arrangement. Loki’s perfectly welcome to solve his technology needs somewhere else. And Tony Stark, playboy extraordinaire, can definitely find other people to get off with.

Only none of them are gods, and few of them are that tall, and he’s never seen a human pair of eyes that color…

He’s screwed.

He’s thought of nothing but Loki since the god left him about a week ago, toting a shiny custom-designed and -made StarkPhone, his lips still flushed red from sucking Tony’s cock and his own come splattered against the inside of his tight leather pants. 

And yes, he _knows_ Loki’s evil and he _knows_ they’re enemies and he _knows_ that Thor’s brother is a no-go zone and he _knows-_

His phone vibrates.

New message!

Tony jabs the _read_ icon and the message bursts open.

_I shall be in your workshop in fifteen minutes._

As if the phrasing alone wasn’t enough to tell him who sent it, the number is listed as ‘unknown’; there’s only one phone in existence that Tony can’t find out the number for, and he made it just a week ago.

That, and the ‘mysterious sender’ has convinced Tony’s phone to render the font in a perfect copy of Loki’s handwriting, green and elegantly loopy yet readable. 

His heart’s already trying to crawl out of his throat and his pulse is thundering in his ears, and he doesn’t even notice what excuses he makes, but he’s halfway down the hall before his pants get noticeably uncomfortable in the crotch. 

Because it’s not like Loki can be _shy_ about what happened, not like he can have found something else to pay Tony with, so Tony’s in for one hell of a time.

And Loki’s about to get his hands on yet more tech that he’ll probably try to destroy the world with.

But Tony can’t bring himself to care. There are a hundred other ways for Loki to get what he wants, so it’s really not that bad for Tony to give in to Loki’s demands. 

Demands like _put your cock in my mouth._

Yeah. So he’s got no problems in hooking up once again with their number one enemy and his teammate’s brother. Yes, he’s shallow. Yes, he’s an idiot.

But he’s also the guy about to get laid by a god.

He makes it to the lab in fourteen minutes flat, panting and disarrayed but unquestionably on time. Loki’s not there yet, so he gets ready, gulping some deep breaths and smoothing his hair back into a deliberately, not literally, windswept style. 

“Jarvis, don’t send out an alarm when Loki appears. Wait for my word.”

“ _Yes, sir._ ”

Even Jarvis knows it’s futile to try to talk Tony out of this. But even Tony knows that a few safety precautions are in order.

Just a few. Nothing that’ll get in their way.

“Ah, there you are.”

Tony spins, heart racing for all the wrong reasons - not because he’s about to get murdered, not because he’s about to try taking Loki into custody. 

Because Loki’s here, just like Tony’s been hoping for all goddamn week.

He grins completely genuinely. “Here I am.”

Loki smiles back; not quite happily like Tony’s, there’s a bit of an edge to it, but Tony’s never been one to take the safe route. And honestly, the fact that Loki almost certainly has a backup plan to kill him is kind of a turn-on of its own.

If _Loki_ thinks that a stubborn, disobedient Tony is worth killing, he must be pretty dangerous.

Loki reaches under his coat to his hip, and pulls out something matte black and tosses it to Tony. 

“I need to know exactly how that works.”

It’s a gun.

Compact handgun, twelve round magazine, initially SHIELD standard issue but slightly personalized with a larger, rubber-coated grip.

He couldn’t swear to it, but this might be Fury’s gun.

Even Tony knows that this is a step above giving Loki a phone. A phone he could get anywhere - but this, this is specialty stuff he’s asking for. He won’t find many street vendors willing to give him a step-by-step tutorial in handgun physics. 

He stalls. “Where’d you get this?”

Loki smirks. “I stole it.”

“Uh-huh.”

Which means it probably _is_ Fury’s gun, because Loki wouldn’t go to the trouble of stealing just anybody’s. 

But then why does he want to know exactly how it works? Tony’s seen it firsthand - bullets do absolutely nothing to Loki except annoy him. It’s not like disarming this thing is going to make Loki any safer or Fury any less defended. Loki might make it blow up in Fury’s hands, but he could achieve exactly the same thing with some well-aimed magic.

Tony’s clearly thought about this serious issue long and hard, and he’s come to the inescapable conclusion that there is absolutely nothing wrong with giving Loki what he’s asked for. 

He glances up from the gun towards Loki; Loki’s long pale hands press flat together and come up to tap his fingertips against his chin. “Name your price, Mr. Stark.”

“Handjob.”

Those _fingers_ , god _damn…_

It sure doesn’t sound like much on paper, given that Loki didn’t impose any limits and Tony’s got every reason to believe he doesn’t have any - this whole payment in sexual favors thing _was_ Loki’s idea in the first place.

But he was looking at Loki’s hands at the time, and given that he hasn’t _seen_ what else Loki has to offer, he’s not feeling short-changed by any means.

Loki grins wide. “Accepted.”

Loki paces a little closer, coat swaying, those elegant hands dropping to his sides. “Payment up front, once more?”

“I, uh - if you insist.”

Because Tony could wait for this without dying of blue balls, he could manage that, really, and it would be gloriously motivating to be standing there taking the gun apart piece by piece at the same time as Loki was taking _Tony_ apart, but he’s not about to turn down anything Loki suggests.

“Oh, I do.”

“Then go for it.”

Loki’s only inches away from him, now, somehow got inside his personal space without Tony particularly noticing or caring. His eyes are still pretty, deep faceted green, pupils blown open, and his tongue slowly wets his lips as he crosses the last scrap of space between them.

He takes the gun back from Tony and lays it on the table beside them, and reaches out for Tony’s hips. “I do have clever hands, Anthony,” he says, and he undoes Tony’s belt smoothly and tidily like he did last week, pops the button like complicated Earth clothes are nothing new to him, and pulls the zipper down. “Magic requires the most precise control.”

“Good to hear,” Tony manages before Loki’s hand presses flat against his stomach under his tee, thumb caressing his navel and sending little shocks through his body. The hand rotates, sliding over his abs, and the fingers flex to dip into each ripple of his muscles, until Loki’s fingers are pointing downwards and he slips his hand under the waist of Tony’s boxers. 

He goes slowly, torturously slowly, Tony’s crotch already throbbing and his cock hard and swollen and begging for touch - he _needs_ this, he’s barely had his pants open for a minute and he needs this, needs Loki to grip him tight and squeeze his orgasm right out of him-

Or this, light strokes, fingertips dancing down his length, fluttery and delicate and making him shiver, this is nice too. Loki’s hand shifts, orbiting Tony’s cock, pushing at the silk to make room for itself, so Tony only gets the barest touches of his fingers. But he’s already shaking, and his hips are twitching forward for more, and Loki’s eyes are boring into his and he’s not smirking anymore, not mocking, there’s nothing funny about this, Loki’s just completely focused on his task and Tony cannot think of a single thing wrong with that.

Can’t think of a single thing, period.

Loki’s finger presses down to his slit, swipes up the precome and brushes the liquid back down Tony’s cock - too much liquid, way too much, and slicker than any body fluid has the right to be-

_Magic._

Then Loki’s hand finally forms a fist and Tony sobs and thrusts into it, the tight wet heat exactly what he wants, Loki’s hand moving with him, stroking him. Fire’s building inside him, hot swirling chaos knocking everything out of its way, and Tony seizes Loki’s shoulders to have something to brace against, something to keep him upright, the leather textured and buttery soft under his hands.

Loki’s other hand grips him, grabs his balls and tugs hard, and Tony gasps and falls forward like Loki’s dragging him, pain spiking through the haze, too much, too sudden. Loki’s grip lightens, softer, a caress not a vice - not like Loki jacked himself off last week, no, maybe _Loki_ likes it rough but Tony’s no masochist, and Loki’s clearly worked that out because his fingers play over Tony’s balls now, tender, and that feels better so Tony thrusts again and feels Loki’s fingers tighten just a little to give him some resistance.

Because Tony does like working for it, likes to push and take and put his back into it, so he outright fucks Loki’s fist and puts himself completely in Loki’s hands, just the quick agile fingers playing him like a harp and pulling him higher and higher, and then Loki drops him over the edge and Tony whirls through the fall and the adrenaline and the rush as all feeling leaves his body, and surges back into him twice as hard-

And he’s shaking, vibrating, wrung out and used up and the lingering traces of _good, this is good_ settling along his nerves like they’re there to stay.

And Loki’s hands pull away and let Tony feel the wet patch he’s shot over his boxers, and Loki settles the fabric back over him and zips up his jeans and rebuckles his belt. Tony coughs through a dry throat and swallows, and takes a deep breath to stop his head spinning. 

God, if he wasn’t screwed before then he sure as hell is now, because Loki could ask for _anything_ and Tony would give. He’s hooked, he’s addicted, there’s no going back from this - telling him how a gun works is nothing, he’d toss up the Avengers for good if it meant he got to be Loki’s boytoy. 

But - as the air gets back into his bloodstream and his bloodstream gets back into his brain - but Loki doesn’t want that. Tony’s just Loki’s tech support guy and Loki’s told him why he’s not paying in cash, and this was the alternative. This is literally nothing but sex - not even sex, nothing nearly so established or mutual as that. This is a business transaction, payment for a favor. That’s it.

It throws some water on the fire inside his skull, and that can be nothing but a good thing right now. 

Loki’s only here for business, and Tony will hold up his end of the deal.

“So, gun. Inner workings and stuff.”

Loki nods, and steps back. His hands are shiny with whatever lube he slicked Tony up with and there are white streaks of Tony’s come in there, too, and Tony goes breathless and sweaty all over again. “Exactly so.”

“Okay.” Yes, okay, he’s going to show Loki how a gun works and that’s it.

So all he does is disassemble the gun, identify each piece, and throw up some holograms showing the internal mechanisms of loading and firing. That’s all Loki wants and that’s what Tony’s giving him.

Loki gets it - not just acquires the explanation, but actually _gets_ it, asks intelligent questions and grasps Tony’s physics terminology pretty damn quickly. It’s kind of nice, considering who he normally hangs out with: Thor, just no, Steve and Clint and Natasha, who don’t have the patience to listen to him rant, and Bruce, who’s a genius biochemist but no engineer.

But he doesn’t need to be finding nice things about Loki. This is a gray mutually satisfying arrangement at best and outright treason at the worst, and the last thing that Tony should do is find reasons to take this even further.

Tony steps back and lets Loki reassemble the gun, his fingers swift and elegant and flawless as they slide the bits of metal into each other. He does something with gold light, something obviously magic that Tony doesn’t follow at all, but even taking Asgardian strength into account, the cartridge looks too light as Loki slots it back into the grip. 

Loki hefts the gun in his hand, and then snaps his fingers shut and lifts it into a firing position, and okay, that’s a little bit too dodgy to ignore.

“What are you doing?”

Loki spins and faces Tony and points the gun right at him and his finger tightens on the trigger-

“Hey-”

Loki fires.

Tony flinches and there’s a burst of something against his chest but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it should and he looks down to see a clear wet patch on his tee and he looks back up to see water dripping from the muzzle of the gun.

“Oh.”

God of Mischief, right.

“Jesus _fuck_ , warn a guy!”

Loki shrugs. “I’m going to shoot you.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

Loki aims and fires again and Tony flings an arm up in front of his face and it gets soaked.

“Put that down!”

This is _not_ funny, okay, they are not kids messing around with water pistols. That’s Fury’s gun and Loki must have some diabolical plot planned for it - the next person Fury tries to shoot is not going to be nearly as dead as he hopes and that’s probably just enough time for Fury to get shot actually dead in return.

Considering that’s it’s _Fury_ holding the water gun, Tony can live with that.

But he’s given Loki what he wanted so why is the god still hanging around?

Loki flicks his wrist and flips the gun a quarter-turn so it points harmlessly at the ceiling. “Thank you for your time.”

“Sure, no problem.”

The water’s wicked its way through his shirt, cold and spreading and annoying, and it’s kind of pointless to play modest around Loki; he works his shirt over his head and uses a dry patch to wipe off his chest and arm.

Loki’s staring at the arc reactor, something like realization in his eyes, and maybe fascination and curiosity and greed, and fair enough too, because this is a pretty damn impressive piece of tech here, but if Loki’s interested in getting anything related to the reactor out of Tony, he’ll have to bend over _real_ far.

But Loki doesn’t say anything about it, just puts the gun back under his coat where he got it from, and smiles at Tony and gives him what might count as a very shallow bow. “Until we meet again, Mr. Stark.”

Tony straightens up and tries to be formal like he should be. “Mr. Laufeyson.”

Something flicks across Loki’s eyes before he disappears in a wash of gold light, and Tony finally feels like he can breathe again. 

He’s standing shirtless in his lab with come in his boxers and a puddle of water on the floor, and he simply cannot give a damn. He’s still got endorphins thrumming under his skin and his heart’s pounding away, and the only thing he’s disappointed about is that he didn’t get to see Loki come. 

Next time, he’ll include that in his price.


	3. Locator

Magic is not impossible.

Tony knows this, because magic exists, and if it is a thing, which it is, then it is possible.

That doesn’t mean he has to agree with what he knows.

Because he’s been staring at this magic missile thing that was hurled at Steve during their last fight for sixteen straight hours now, and his eyes are dry and his stubble’s growing in itchy and he’s starting to get hungry, and he’s still no closer to tracking the guy that made it.

If this was a gun, he’d know the manufacturer and the exact composition of the component metals and the type of ammunition it took, and probably be able to use the serial number to find a buyer - and even if that was filed off, he’d still have leads. If this was something iconic, like Clint’s arrows, that’d make it even easier to use to track down the owner.

But something that was literally created out of thin air before being just tossed at Cap’s head? How’s that supposed to lead Tony anywhere?

Tony groans, and drops his head onto the table. The holograms spin crazily, mistaking his forehead for input, but they weren’t telling him anything anyway and shutting his eyes against the dancing lightforms is easy enough.

Easier than _this_ piece of shit.

He swings a punch at the yellowy magic ball thing and misses completely and just ends up with an ache in his overextended elbow. Magic is so not his thing that it’s not even funny.

What he really needs is an outside consultant who knows about magic and is willing to tell Tony how to find the guy they’re looking for.

Somebody who knows magic the way Tony knows tech.

And Tony’s existing role as consultant just makes the whole answer fall into his lap.

_Loki._

He’s already got a standing arrangement with Loki, after all - if Loki needs tech, he comes to Tony.

Tony needs magic, so he should go to Loki. Obviously.

There’s the slight hiccup where Loki pays in sexual favors, though. What’s Tony going to do about that? Loki’s not going to be any more interested in money than Tony is, and if Loki doesn’t need any equivalent technical help today then that leaves Tony with dropping his pants and bending over.

Is he really willing to prostitute himself to the enemy just to track down one guy who throws magic tennis balls at people’s heads?

Is he really okay with getting fucked by a god _and_ finding their current villain?

Yes. Yes, he is.

He’s about to do something extremely stupid that’s probably going to get him killed if it goes pear-shaped - but when is he _not_ doing that? He’s Tony Stark! He’s practically _obligated_ to offer to let Loki bang him!

Then there’s the question of how he’s supposed to get in touch with Loki, because he’s almost certainly not in the phone book. But he does have a phone, and that gives Tony a starting point.

Not a very useful one, though, because Tony himself made that number untraceable and when Tony makes something untraceable, it stays untraceable. But he also knows from their last hookup that Loki has fingers in _Tony’s_ phone - enough to make it render text in Loki’s handwriting - so this ought to work.

He grabs his phone and opens up a new message, puts ‘Loki’ in the recipient box, and types, _I have a deal to offer you. I need something and I’m willing to pay upfront._

And then he doesn’t send it, he just leaves it there and hopes it’s enough to catch Loki’s attention.

He turns back to the stupid magic tennis ball - it’s roughly tennis ball shaped and colored, even if it’s actually made out of something hard and dense - and picks it up and tosses it in the air and catches it again, because he needs something to do with his hands and using his phone is out if he wants Loki to see that message.

Toss. Catch. 

Why exactly does he expect Loki to be looking at the screen of Tony’s phone?

Toss. Catch.

_Loki’s_ got _Tony’s_ number, and this has always been coming from Loki’s side, in all of the two times it’s happened, so it’s not like he’d bother checking if Tony wanted him.

Toss. Catch.

Tony’s probably way in over his head.

Toss.

As if Loki’s going to answer.

Catch.

He’s screwed.

Toss-

And the lab disappears and there’s a rush of air and he spins and finds himself somewhere he completely doesn’t recognize-

Catch.

“Mr. Stark,” Loki says, and Tony turns around to see the god lounging across a large sofa that looks like - that _is_ something out of an IKEA catalog. Tony looks around a bit more, at the flatscreen plasma, the neatly-curtained windows, the wall of bookcases, and the soft rugs over the hardwood floor.

This is Loki’s _house._

Apartment, he amends, because he can still hear NYC traffic outside and he can’t see down to the street through the windows, just the huge green wash of Central Park.

_Nice_ apartment.

Well, Loki did say he only ever settled for the best.

“You wanted to see me?”

Loki’s dressed far more casually than he normally is; total lack of armor, for one thing. Even for the ‘business meetings’ with Tony - and that’s all they are, business - he’s always worn the green and black leather that he normally sports when not actively trying to kill people.

Now, he’s in neat black slacks and a dark green button-up, the perfect classy casually formal mix, sleeves folded up halfway to the elbow and his bare feet hooked over the arm of the couch. His hair’s neater than usual, too, either freshly combed back over his skull or just not disturbed through his efforts to create mayhem.

Or to get Tony off.

Tony swallows, because his mouth’s suddenly gone dry. He’s not so far gone as to call Loki the _most_ sinfully sexy thing he’s ever seen, but he’s not about to try lying to himself by saying that he’s _not_ , either.

“I’m interested in a consultation, Mr. Laufeyson.”

Loki nods, and sits up and retreats to one side of the couch, and waves his hand in invitation at the other end, where his legs were a second ago. “Keep talking.”

Tony sits - and wow, this thing is _comfortable_ \- and proffers the magic ball. “I need to find the guy who made that. Magic user. Fought us - what day is it today?”

Loki takes the ball, and raises an eyebrow at Tony. “Sunday.”

“Right. So, on Friday. SHIELD looked it over, couldn’t find any way to track the guy down. _I_ looked it over, couldn’t find anything. So I figured I’d come to the one person I know for sure is something of an expert in this kind of stuff. Oh, crap, Sunday - you don’t keep normal office hours, do you?”

Loki smirks. “I do not adhere to your ridiculous Midgardian conventions, no.”

Oh, good. That probably means he’s forgiven for asking for a business consultation on a weekend.

Loki tosses the ball from long pale hand to long pale hand. “And you said you were willing to pay upfront?”

“Since you’ve been so generous in that regard.”

“Ah,” Loki says, packing a library of meaning into that one syllable, but what Tony gets out of it is that Loki’s on the same smutty page as Tony is. “And what are you offering?”

What exactly _is_ he offering? Obviously this is about doing _Loki_ a service, about getting _Loki_ off. Until Tony has reason to believe otherwise, he’s going to assume that Loki, being Loki, tops. And while Tony-the-consultant is in no small way motivated by the consideration that Loki’s a _god_ and he really should kind of be honored to even be _touched_ , Loki-the-consultant is not going to be impressed by Tony’s willingness alone.

It’s go big, or go home.

“I figured you could bend me over this couch and fuck me until I scream, and then fuck me some more.”

He shoots, he scores - Loki’s eyes flash intensely and his pupils explode in a second. “Accepted.” He drops the magic ball onto the coffee table and stands up. “On your feet, then,” he purrs, and Tony jerks upright like he’s a puppet on strings. 

Loki sets a hand flat to Tony’s chest, either deliberately or coincidentally not touching the reactor, and pushes Tony backwards and around the couch. Tony just goes, trying to glance behind him to make sure he doesn’t trip, because what’s less sexy than that, but not able to tear his eyes from Loki’s for long.

There’s a burning _need_ there that really doesn’t belong in this kind of arrangement - business, strictly business - and Tony knows because he’s felt it himself. Because he’s tried to persuade himself that wanting more sex is just going to get him into trouble, that thinking Loki’s arousal was anything but a simple physiological reaction is a bad idea.

But clearly, Loki _was_ watching Tony’s phone.

Loki gets him around the back of the couch and drops his hand and raises an eyebrow, and flicks his gaze down towards himself. “Well?”

Never let it be said that Tony can’t take a hint. He reaches out and untucks Loki’s green shirt, and unbuttons it from the bottom up, slowly, definitely more than is needed to get it out of the way, but Loki doesn’t stop him and the pale marble chest that Tony reveals as he goes is too good not to keep going. Then Loki’s shirt’s hanging open, and Tony stares at the rippling whipcord muscles before he remembers that he’s _working_ here. He drops his eyes, and pops the button of Loki’s slacks and slides down the zipper, exactly like Loki did for him. Only Loki doesn’t wear underwear - and Tony’s mouth goes even drier just thinking about it - so he just pulls the slacks down a few inches to give Loki space to move, and takes a good look at what he’s going to have buried in his ass.

It’s _nice._

Thick and long enough that even someone of Tony’s experience is going to feel every inch like it’s an inch too many, a gentle curve to it as it hangs half-hard out of his open pants. He’s got no body hair, either, _none_ , which is great because that stuff’s itchy in delicate places, and Tony almost, almost regrets that he didn’t offer a blowjob instead.

But he’s laid his terms and Loki’s accepted them, so there’s no turning back now.

He reaches out instead, wraps his fingers around Loki’s cock, and gives him a slow pump to get him harder. 

Loki exhales shakily, and his mouth falls open and stays open. “You too have… clever hands. I shall remember that.”

“Do,” Tony says, and pumps him again, a little faster - faster than he’d give himself without any slick, but if he’s right then Loki likes it rough.

He’s right; Loki outright moans, and his cock throbs in Tony’s hand and fills with blood, swelling further and stretching the ring of Tony’s thumb and fingers. One more, and Loki’s hand twitches by his side like he knows he’s ready and he’s going to smack Tony’s hand away and make him stop playing around.

Tony drops Loki’s cock and watches it bob in the air, indulges himself for just one second before unbuckling his belt - he’s got to stop wearing belts, this is such a waste of time - and undoes his jeans and shoves them and his boxers down his legs. He levers one shoe off against the other and steps out of his jeans with that foot, and smirks at Loki and works his tee up to armpit level before turning around and spreading his legs and bending over the couch like he promised.

It’s a _nice_ couch from this angle, too, the back somehow at the perfect height to support him, and the seat at the ideal distance away from his body; he reaches down and plants both hands in the cushions and just feels nicely balanced. The fabric’s soft and a little textured, enough to stop him from sliding around everywhere but definitely not enough to get burned on, and if Tony didn’t know better he’d think Loki had picked this couch just so he could bend Tony over it.

But he does know better, because, for the last time, _that’s not how this works._

“You’re very trusting,” Loki says, and palms one of Tony’s ass cheeks slowly. “I could take you right now, without lubricant or preparation, and what would you do about that?”

Tony swallows, and doesn’t let himself rut against the couch. “I’d hope your information was worth it.”

“And if it is?”

“Then I guess you go ahead.”

Yes, that’s a _good_ answer. Tony’s just taking one for the team, that’s all. If it’s rougher than he likes, that’s good - he’s just paying for a service, that’s all, an exchange of favors and nothing more. It shouldn’t be nice, it shouldn’t be fun, it’s-

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Stark,” Loki says, and one slick finger probes between Tony’s cheeks and rubs at his asshole gently. 

Tony doesn’t melt around Loki’s touch.

Not quite.

But considering that his psychotic murdering evil god enemy is about to bone him, he’s way more relaxed than he’s got any right to be. Considering the clusterfuck of trouble that Tony will be in if he ever lets slip details of - or even admits to - their arrangement, he should be doing everything in his power to call it off and start some form of damage control. 

But instead he just moans softly as the tip of Loki’s finger slips in, the scrape of his fingernail sending delicious shivers up his spine, and slides slowly further into him.

Tony breathes slowly, adjusting, letting his muscles get the memo about what’s happening here, but behind and above him Loki’s breath is hitched and shaking. His hand on Tony’s ass cheek squeezes gently. His fingers are long enough that he’s practically cupping the whole damn thing, back to thigh, and Tony groans and his arms buckle already and he just folds into the couch, chest mashed into the upright cushions and his head against the seat, face turned sideways so he can breathe.

Loki pushes in a second finger, and starts stretching him open. Tony moans at the strain, the slight burn before his muscles warm up and start to give, and Loki’s fingers get a little further apart with each scissoring motion. It’s a nice lube that Loki’s magicked up, too, smooth and a little more liquid than Tony’s used to, spreading easily over his insides.

Loki’s fingers pull back and he grips Tony’s hips hard, and Tony sucks in a breath and forces himself not to brace. He’s not as prepped as he’d usually like but it’s definitely enough, and he already knows that Loki likes it on the harder side and as long as it doesn’t actually _hurt_ Tony’s good for it.

Then Loki fucks in hard in one thrust and Tony gasps because it feels like Loki’s just filled his entire _body_ , like his cock’s pressing against Tony’s ribs and it’s about to come out of his throat. Loki’s huge and Tony’s completely taken, _owned_ , ruined for anyone else-

_No, can’t be, it’s payment and that’s it, shut the hell up!_

Loki’s hands flex on Tony’s hips and he pulls half-out before slamming in again, and Loki groans, long and low, and keeps that up, quick forceful short thrusts, pinning Tony between him and the couch. His cock’s rubbing hard over Tony’s insides, warming and slick and surging, a rhythmic pattern like a standing wave, building on itself. It’s like Loki’s cock is driving Tony’s pulse, like every thrust back inside jars his heart into one more beat, and Tony just hangs there and lets himself be plowed and digs his fingers into Loki’s cushions.

“You promised…” Loki’s voice is vague and breathless, and his thrusts slow and ease up, and he swallows loudly. “You promised me screaming, Stark.”

“Muhh- make me.”

Loki gives a low laugh with more than an edge of menace to it, and his fingers claw around Tony’s hipbones. And then he’s fucking Tony like it’s a punishment, harder and harder until Tony’s shaking apart, and Loki’s cock’s spearing him open and Tony can feel the need to come building behind his eyes, from _this_ , from being _used_ like an object-

And somehow Loki pounds even deeper and Tony screams - without thinking, without planning, he just _does_ \- and it’s frightening but not nearly as frightening as it’s good, and Loki gasps and his hips stop, pressed tight to Tony’s ass, and the wet splash of his come marks Tony’s insides.

Loki’s breathing heavily, and one of his hands peels away from Tony’s hip and presses to the small of his back, hard, like Loki needs support to stand upright and Tony’s body is what he’s chosen.

Tony breathes, too, and feels the soreness where his abs are pinned to the top of the couch, and the roughness of the fabric against his cock; he’s hard and sensitive and raw from the friction where he’s been rubbed against the couch.

“Let me…” He can’t _believe_ he’s asking this question, because in _no_ world is Tony submissive, but this is Loki’s game here and he makes all the rules. “Let me come?”

Loki gives a thoughtful hum, and pulls back slowly, sliding out and leaving Tony slick and achingly empty. He can feel his asshole fluttering around the openness before his muscles tighten painfully, too stretched to manage it properly, and a warm trail of Loki’s come starts to drip out of him and down his thighs.

“If you must, I suppose,” Loki sighs, like he doesn’t care one way or the other. “If I have brought you to such a peak of pleasure that the only way down is to leap, it would be unkind to leave you trapped there.”

So many words to say _yes_ , but it’s a yes and Tony sobs relief and shoves a hand between himself and the couch, grabs his cock and squeezes, after every throbbing pulse, so he’s hammered outside and then inside and outside again-

Loki’s hand slaps his ass, sharp and bright, and he snaps, “I said _come_ , Stark,” and Tony shouts and does, the orgasm cracking out of him like a whip, taking everything he’s got left with it, and his knees buckle and he’s just draped over Loki’s couch. His thighs press against the wet patch he’s left in the fabric and the spot on his ass where Loki slapped him is throbbing like a beacon, stinging, and he’s got to have a perfect red handprint there.

Tony’s no masochist but there’s no other way to describe it than the good kind of hurt.

“F-fuck…”

Loki huffs. “I just did.”

“Yeah.”

Tony pulls himself together - he’s Tony Stark, ruler of a technological empire more powerful than most small countries, he’s here to track down a threat to national security, and he is not a fucked-out toy dumped across his enemy’s furniture. He is not meek, he does not serve Loki any more than he already has…

And he is so completely off the deep end that he might as well stop trying to swim back up.

But no. He can’t, not yet. He’s not about to throw everything away when he doesn’t even know if Loki’s offering anything in its place. 

That _would_ be just like Loki, to have one of the Avengers cut ties with the rest and then be left to die alone in the cold.

Bastard.

What does Tony want with a guy like that?

_Don’t answer that._

Tony pushes himself up, slowly, peels his torso away from the cushions, sets his hands on the backrest beside his hips and pushes himself upright. His tee succumbs to gravity and falls back down around his waist, and he bends slowly and drags his jeans and boxers back up.

He’s got come inside and out, but he’ll shower when he gets home. Loki’s not going to offer, that’s for sure.

Only Loki made him coffee and Tony gave him a seat, and that was the _first_ time, so why should he assume there’s no courtesy here?

Tony buckles his belt and crams his foot back into his shoe, and turns around and looks for Loki. 

He’s on the other side of the couch, composed and immaculate again, holding the magic ball thing in one hand and doing something twisty with the fingers of the other, spraying little waves of gold light around it. If the gold light is Loki’s magic, then the ball’s fighting back, spitting reddish sparks. Loki’s gold brightens, and turns kind of solid; he waves his hand again, and there’s a chunky silver metal thing wrapping the ball.

He hands it to Tony. There’s a tiny screen on one side, displaying a set of GPS coordinates. “Your magician is there.”

“Does this update real-time?”

“It does.” Loki smirks, a craftsman proud of his work, and Tony nods, impressed, because integrating magic and tech - two things that have almost nothing to do with each other - can’t be easy.

“I’m impressed,” he says, because Loki deserves to hear it.

Loki’s smirk fades into a smile, small and almost private, like maybe it’s something Tony shouldn’t be staring at. He glances away, back down to the ball thing in his hands. This is what he came for, and he’s got it. So it’s time to go.

Um. Yeah. About that.

“I realize this wasn’t part of the original deal, but maybe you could send me back?” Because for one thing, he’s got no idea where he is apart from opposite Central Park - like that narrows it down - and for the other, he left his phone back at the Tower so he can’t call a pickup and no _way_ would he walk even if he knew which direction to go.

Loki taps a long finger against his lips, and lifts a challenging eyebrow. “Clean up the mess you left on my couch, and I will.”

“Accepted.”

Licking it up would be kind of stunning - _he’d_ be stunned if Loki did that for him - but Tony’s not quite sunk enough to do it if Loki doesn’t ask for it specifically. But neither is he so boring as to ask where he can find a bucket of water and a sponge, so he drops the ball on the couch and whips his shirt off and leans down to wipe up the patch of his come with a corner. 

Loki’s quiet footsteps come around the couch and stand beside him, and a single fingertip runs down Tony’s back, slowly, slipping between his ribs and following the curves of his muscles as he moves, like a drop of oil taking the path of least resistance. 

“Do you still wish to continue our arrangement, Anthony?”

Tony freezes, and makes himself keep wiping at the couch even though he’s done, because he doesn’t want to stand back up right now, doesn’t want to look at the face that’s speaking like that - unsure, and reaching, waiting for something from Tony in return - like Loki’s _concerned_ he’s fucked Tony too hard and Tony’s not going to come back again and ask for more.

They _definitely_ know nothing about each other, because - come on, really? Too much sex for _Tony Stark?_

He scoffs. “You’ve got a massive cock and you give head like you were born for it. Hell yes I want the arrangement.”

Loki pauses for a minute, and then laughs, joy and relief and yes, menace, because it’s Loki. His hand flattens and sweeps across Tony’s back before he’s gone, walking away. Tony straightens up, abs aching, and pulls his tee back on and reaches over and down to pick up the magic ball from where he dropped it. 

“Okay, good to go.” He coughs, and attempts to salvage one last pretense to smother his stupid brain and sex drive. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Laufeyson.”

Loki blinks, slowly, eyes dark. “You’re welcome, Mr. Stark.”

Then Loki disappears, the apartment disappears, and Tony’s back in his own lab, location of their target in hand and a line of come edging between his cheeks.

He sighs, and picks up his phone and goes to tell the other Avengers that ‘he’s’ found a way to find their guy.

He checks for missed messages and calls; there aren’t any, but there is a new contact.

There’s no number, just a four-letter name in scrolly green letters. 

Tony’s screwed.

But if he is, Loki just might be, too.


	4. Tablet And Coffee Machine

Tony shouldn’t be proud of himself that he makes it two whole weeks without calling Loki, but he is.

After all, he doesn’t need a way to dress himself magically like Loki can do.

He doesn’t need to have his armor appear out of thin air like even Thor can do.

He certainly doesn’t need a magic self-refilling coffee machine.

Neither does he want Loki to need a Tony Stark custom-made coffee machine.

Okay, he kind of does. He’s Tony Stark and he wants sex - this is not news.

And the fact that he wants it with Loki isn’t really all that much of a problem in the end, okay? So Loki threw him through a window - Thor went after him with Mjolnir. So Loki tried to take over the world - who hasn’t wanted to try that? Loki’s got issues - Tony can _really_ sympathize.

And if Loki’s getting laid regularly, maybe that’ll mellow him out? If somebody’s actually paying attention to him, maybe he won’t go around blowing stuff up to get it? Six weeks is too early to be certain of a long-term trend, but Loki’s only attack since starting whatever-this-is with Tony was unusually delayed and way less destructive than the previous one.

Like he wasn’t particularly megalomaniacal, just bored.

So maybe Tony should call him.

Loki _gave_ Tony his number, after all - more or less, Tony doesn’t actually know what the number _is_ , but he can call it - so he must want Tony to get in touch.

It makes absolute sense for him to pick up his phone and make a booty call.

Except that that’s not how this works. This isn’t even up to the level of casual sex, it’s purely monetary. Sexual favors for services rendered. Tony provides tech and Loki provides magic, when needed, and they get paid back in slightly dubious sex with hints of d/s, that’s all. 

So if Tony wants to get fucked, or wants to get his mouth on Loki’s cock, he’s got to come up with something he needs from Loki.

Is there anything he’s been working on lately that he’s having trouble with? Something Loki could fix up for him? Something where it would be completely reasonable and not at all desperate for him to hold it out and say ‘make this work and I’ll blow you’.

He’s got a hydraulic pump that could use a better lubricant, but that’s pretty damn suggestive and Loki’ll see right through him.

No, he’ll have to go with the self-refilling coffee machine. He does actually want one, after all, so Loki can’t accuse him of breaking the rules.

Not that there even _are_ any rules. They’re unbelievably disorganized. They need something, so the other one gives it to them and they pay up with sex - but what if what they need in the first place is also sex? Does that count? Or does that strain the bounds of the weirdest professional relationship ever?

It’s not even a relationship: they’re just using whatever currency comes to hand when money is off the table. They’re practically exploiting each other.

And getting off on being exploited, too.

Tony pouts. This is _complicated._

Thank god they’re not in _love -_ it’s confusing enough as it is.

His phone beeps, and he fishes it out of his pocket. Probably a meeting, or a mission, or Steve wondering where he left his tablet like Tony would know any better than he would.

_If you are free, I have a request to make._

It’s from Loki.

Tony sighs relief, because clearly Loki’s after something, which means Tony doesn’t have to ask for a magic coffee machine after all.

Only now he’s thought about it, he really wants one.

Should he just keep his mouth shut and ask in a week?

Or should he trust the soft way Loki asked if Tony wanted to keep their little meetings up the last time they met - like Loki would miss them if Tony turned him down - and assume that one straightforward swap won’t break the overall arrangement?

He texts back, _Sure, anytime you like_ , and puts his phone away and tries, really hard, not to get his hopes up.

Loki said he never settles for anything but the best, so what does that mean he thinks of Tony?

Where’s the nearest thing of lube? 

Stupid question, it’s under the cushions he’s sitting on, six inches from his butt, he keeps lube in all the pieces of furniture that can serve as surfaces to have sex on.

“Jarvis, privacy mode.”

“ _Certainly, sir._ ”

“And stop judging me.”

“ _I wouldn’t dream of judging you, sir_.”

How long does it take for Loki to pull a magic teleport out of his ass?

Tony gets up and takes stock of himself. He’s only chilling in his lounge room, so he’s just in trackpants and a baggy MIT shirt, he hasn’t showered in a day or two and he’s done nothing to style his hair but sleep on it.

He sure doesn’t feel like a guy who’s about to have a god offer himself to him.

But that’s Loki’s business, not his.

“Mr. Stark.”

Tony spins, and waves a hand at Loki. He’s underdressed too, for him, a neat black suit with a white shirt and a glamorous green scarf hanging around his neck, but no tie. His hair’s neat again, way neater than Tony’s, black and slick and gleaming. Loki’s eyes spark green at him. 

“Mr. Laufeyson, how lovely to see you again.”

Loki’s gaze flickers down and away, and Tony knows he’s crossed a line, meant the words too much, and he coughs to recover some formality and gestures to the couch.

“Please, sit.”

Loki tips his head in thanks, and perches on the far end; Tony sits too. “What can I do you for?”

And, for possibly the first time in human history, those words are meant literally.

Loki counterrotates his hands, and swipes a StarkPad out of thin air. “Can you fix this?”

Tony leans forward to take it from him, and Loki meets him halfway and suddenly they’re way, way too close to each other and Loki’s eyes are still too fucking pretty. Tony takes the tablet before they start a staring match, and settles back into his corner. “What’s wrong with it?”

Loki arches an eyebrow. “If I knew what was wrong, I wouldn’t need you.”

Is Tony reading too much into that when he thinks that maybe, because of that, Loki didn’t look too closely?

“And what’ll you give me if I fix it?”

Loki stretches, catlike, and folds his hands behind his head. “I think you can fuck me as hard and as fast as you can manage.”

That could work.

It really could.

Only he does want that coffee machine, too.

“You know, I was thinking of calling you, just before.”

“Oh?”

“Can you make my coffee machine self-refilling?”

Loki’s lips purse as he thinks it over. “I believe so.” He lowers his arms and leans forward a bit more, a little menacing, a little predatory. Dominant. “And what can you offer me?”

“I’d suck you off. I’d suck you _dry._ ”

Loki nods slowly, considering. “So that leaves us…”

Tony starts with the least satisfactory option. “I could fix your tablet and you could fix my coffee machine.”

“Mmm…”

“Or I could fix your tablet, fuck you, you could fix my coffee machine, and I’d suck you off.”

“Mm-hm…”

“Or…” Tony swallows, straightens his spine, and goes for the gold. “I could fix your tablet and you could fix my coffee machine. And then I’d fuck you and then suck you off.”

And he’s got no idea whether Loki’s up for this, whether he’s actually after sex specifically and not just anything of equal value to his time, and Tony knows _he_ wants the former but he doesn’t know about Loki…

“Accepted.”

Oh, thank _fuck._

Loki unfolds himself from the couch. “Where can I find your coffee machine, then?”

Tony stands up too, and jerks a thumb over his shoulder in a completely irrelevant direction. “The one down in my lab, that’s the one I need. I’ll go down with you, I need to crack this open and take a look.”

Loki nods, and just like that the living room fades into the workshop, and that will never stop being completely awesome.

Tony points at the coffee machine. “That one. I’m not sure exactly how your magic works, but just make it so it always makes coffee, that’d be perfect.”

“Certainly.”

Loki stalks across the workshop, and Tony checks out his ass - very nice, firm and perfectly hugged by his slacks - before laying Loki’s stricken tablet down on a table.

He scans it, identifies the problem - the memory’s completely fried in a very suspicious and likely deliberate way and Tony conceals his smug glee - and across the workshop, Loki hisses and curses at the coffee machine. 

Tony pries the back off, fishes out the literally smoking chip, and starts fishing through the junk on the tables for a replacement; Loki opens up the coffee machine, and Tony hears him go, “Oh, that’s how it works,” and then shut up. 

Tony replaces the parts, seals the tablet again, and cleans the screen since it feels wrong to give it back with smeary fingerprints all over it, and there’s a whine of steam and when Tony turns around, tablet in hand, Loki’s right there in front of him, offering a full mug. 

They trade, and Tony sips appreciatively - Loki didn’t mess with his settings, so it’s black and strong, with just a hint of sugar - and Loki turns his tablet on and hums.

“Much better.”

“And this is good.”

“So.” Loki swirls his hands, disappearing the tablet, and Tony puts his mug down, because there’s another whole plan to carry through, here-

Loki teleports them back to the living room, and then just like that his hands are yanking Tony’s shirt up and over his head and shoving his trackpants down his legs, and yes, okay, this is happening _now._

They’ve got the business out of the way, so this?

_This_ is casual sex.

And fuck it feels good.

Tony whips Loki’s scarf from around his neck and pushes his suit jacket off his shoulders, and Loki’s not making it easy by insisting on standing only an inch away from Tony, he’s got no room to move, but his fingers fumble at the buttons of Loki’s shirt anyway and he peels it open and runs his hands down those sculpted muscles because he’s actually allowed to _touch_ now.

Loki puts one foot between Tony’s legs, pinning his pants to the floor, and sets both hands on Tony’s hips and lifts him right out of the fabric pooled around his feet, and drops him flat on his back on the couch, butt naked. Tony gasps, sucks air back into his lungs, and stares as Loki kicks off his shoes and peels his shirt off and steps out of his slacks ridiculously elegantly, miles of bare pale legs, cock swelling between his thighs and Tony reaches out desperate grabby hands.

Loki chuckles and flips a leg over him and straddles him, skin on skin, and Tony groans and pushes his head back into the couch. God, Loki’s _fantastic_ , hips moving slowly over Tony’s, and he leans down, hands either side of Tony’s head, and just comes closer and closer and finally, finally kisses him. 

His lips are warm and hungry, sucking on Tony’s, attacking him, and Tony tangles a hand in Loki’s hair and holds him down, shoves his tongue into Loki’s mouth. Loki bites him, just a bit, a sudden sharp spike that goes straight to his cock, and Tony catches Loki’s lip between his teeth in return and Loki moans into Tony’s mouth. 

“Fuck me, Anthony, fuck me now,” Loki gasps, and he rocks up a little and grabs Tony’s cock with one hand to steady it and - wait, hang on-

“You need-”

“I _don’t_ ,” Loki snarls, and he shoves his hips back and up and down again and takes Tony’s cock in one go.

Loki’s _burning_ , tight and hot and slick, and he tosses his head back, hair flying, and grinds down harder with his hips. Tony’s smothered, immersed, but Loki’s also really fucking heavy so Tony grabs his shoulders and pulls their chests flat together, and rolls them both off the couch and onto the floor - they crash hard with Loki on his back now and Tony landing on top of him. It jars Tony but Loki’s made of tough stuff so Tony just gets into a kneeling position and lifts Loki’s hips and lines up again and slams back in.

Loki cries out, back arching off the floor, and reaches up and seizes a handful of Tony’s hair and pulls hard, and Tony hisses at the pain and cracks his hips against Loki’s ass, jams his cock in as far as it will go and stays there.

Loki moans, gasping for breath and twisting against the floor, hand still tangled in Tony’s hair, eyes screwed shut and that’s such a waste of something so pretty.

“Look at me,” Tony says, growls, whatever, and he reaches out and grabs Loki’s jaw and pulls his head down and leans over him, bracing his other hand on the floor by Loki’s head. “Look at me!”

He’s damn well going to _make_ Loki open his eyes, they’re too gorgeous not to look at and Tony wants to see everything he’s doing to the god sprawled across his living room floor. 

Loki’s lids slide back and then Loki’s staring at him wide-eyed. Loki’s pupils are huge, the green iris barely a line around them, and Tony pulls back and fucks forward again like he can fill those black holes if he tries hard enough. Loki’s tight, clenching down around him, gripping like he’s desperate to keep Tony inside him. Tony fights, pulls out and shoves back in however the hell _he_ wants, and Loki’s just lying there gasping and writhing and he hasn’t looked away for even an instant. His hand’s twitching in Tony’s hair like he wants to pull but Tony’s fucked the strength out of him.

Tony grins, and keeps pounding, hot and sweating, both hands on the floor now, and feels the need to come starting to build up inside him, a swarm of sparks behind his eyes and in his balls. The reactor’s making Loki’s skin glow and putting tiny blue points in the middle of his pupils, and then Loki’s heel hits Tony’s back hard and fucking _kicks his orgasm right out of him._

Tony shoots and it feels like a full-body workout, and the world wormholes for a second before his vision clears and he gets his breath. His hips are still twitching and he can feel his cock sliding through his come, and something damp on his stomach, and he glances down to see that Loki’s come between them, completely untouched.

Tony smirks, and when his arm stops shaking and he feels like he won’t collapse without it supporting him, he lifts his hand and palms one of Loki’s sharp hipbones. “Guess that promise to suck you will have to wait, huh?”

And maybe he’s a touch disappointed but mostly he’s just feeling madly smug that he fucked a god into coming without touching his cock once, because he’s Tony Stark and he’s just that awesome.

Loki blinks slowly and takes a deep breath, and then looks at Tony with a hot, challenging gaze that makes Tony’s whole skin shiver. He pulls his hand out of Tony’s hair and plants it in his chest instead, and pushes him away. Tony goes - Loki’s not being pliant and needy, anymore, he’s taken the reins back and Tony can’t wait to see what he does with them.

But he’s already come, so what the hell is his plan?

He tugs out of Loki’s ass, soft and sticky, and watches Loki pull himself together and lift himself up to sit on the couch, and Tony gets a real good look at his come leaking out of Loki to stain his cushions.

Loki chuckles, and Tony glances up to see him grin. Loki’s hand moves, wraps around his cock, and he starts pumping.

“Do not question the stamina of the gods, Stark.”

And Loki’s getting hard again, cock flushed red and swelling in his hand, and Tony’s mouth waters and he shuffles forward until he’s kneeling in front of the couch between Loki’s spread legs, and then Loki makes him wait and keeps pumping, motions made smooth by his _own come,_ and Tony really wants to get his mouth on that but this is Loki’s scene, now, so he waits.

And waits.

He watches the long fingers sliding over the long cock, the twists of Loki’s wrist and the slow way he thumbs the head, and he glances up to see Loki’s eyes shut, head tipped back, lips pressed firmly together to keep quiet.

And cracks. Because Loki’s just sitting there pleasuring himself and ignoring Tony like he’s not even worth being used to get off. “Are you trying to get me to beg, is that your game?”

Loki’s eyes flicker back open, and his mouth opens in too-perfect, fake, surprise. “Oh, Stark, are you that desperate?”

Tony shrugs. _Yes, you asshole!_ “No.”

Loki’s eyes narrow. “Do not lie to me.”

“Maybe?”

“Oh, then I have been cruel,” Loki murmurs, his other hand reaching out to cup Tony’s cheek. “Look at you, on your knees, hoping I’ll finally give you what you want. You’re not satisfied with fucking me, you need to taste me, too, need to make me come again and again. Yes?”

Tony groans. “Oh, yeah.”

Loki’s hand finally, finally falls away from his cock and Tony’s leaning forward before he gets permission.

Loki laughs softly, and strokes his cheek. “Suck me, then.”

Tony shoots forward and all but swallows him.

He tastes the faint bitter tang of Loki’s come and the salt of his skin, and the hot throbbing flesh fills his mouth and pokes at the back of his throat before Loki can make a sound. Tony licks him, slowly, feels Loki shudder, and one of his hands comes down to comb softly through Tony’s hair.

“Yes, just like that…”

Tony pulls away, mouth empty, and moves in to cover Loki in small licks, tongue flicking against his cock, marking him bit by bit. Tony leans closer, presses his cheek to Loki’s thigh, feels the alive thrumming muscle that could crush him in an instant if Loki chose.

But he doesn’t, for whatever reason, he’s letting Tony live, and if his ego needed any more boosting he’s got this: Loki thinks Tony’s a good enough cocksucker to ignore the fact that he’s got an Avenger completely at his mercy.

Tony kneels up a bit to reach the top side of Loki’s cock, and licks down it in one fluid motion, stretching out his tongue to reach the base and tap the smooth skin of Loki’s groin before sliding back up. Loki groans, head dropping backwards, but his hand’s nothing but tender in Tony’s hair. 

Tony’s worshipping here, bathing Loki’s cock in adoration, submissive and obedient and so very eager to please, and it’s all so wrong except for how good it feels. Loki’s a god, of course there’s worship, and shrines could be built to his cock alone - knowing the Vikings, they probably have been. And there’s nothing but power in submission, because Tony’s making a god fall apart with his tongue, and he’s got Loki at his mercy, too; Tony’s teeth are near some very delicate places and even Loki shouldn’t be able to shrug that off - Tony could bring Loki down for long enough to get his suit and call the Avengers. 

He probably should, because Loki’s his enemy and this opportunity might never come again.

But fuck _should_. Since when has Tony - or Loki - done what he _should?_

Tony finishes his round with a swirl of the tip of his tongue around Loki’s slit, tasting the precome starting to bead there. His tongue’s aching and his jaw’s sore already, and he really should have got a cushion for his knees, but he’s nowhere near done with Loki so he sucks it up and keeps going.

He pulls his tongue away and glances up at his handiwork; Loki’s flushed, gasping for air, chest heaving, head hanging back against the couch. He looks absolutely ruined, and _Tony_ did that.

He moves in again and takes Loki’s cock back down, loosens his throat and moves further in. Warm, wet skin rubs over his tongue as Loki slides down his throat, and then Tony’s lips are pressed to Loki’s groin and Loki’s thighs bracket him tight on either side, and Tony swallows around him and tears start up in his eyes at the swelling in his throat and the ache as it’s filled, but he swallows again and Loki moans, lost, hand flexing in Tony’s hair.

Tony breathes through his nose, calm, smells musk and sweat and come and breathes some more. He tightens his jaw a little and gives Loki a hint of teeth, and Loki jerks and gasps and thrusts down his throat and yeah, Tony knows he likes it rough, doesn’t he?

He pulls back, adding pressure as he goes, teeth scraping, digging in just enough, and Loki shouts and bucks into his mouth and comes. It hits the back of Tony’s throat and he swallows, wincing at the soreness, but it’s not nearly enough to make him stop. 

Tony sucks, takes little sips of come from the slit, sharp and bitter and thrilling, and keeps sucking when Loki’s got nothing left until Loki groans and shoves him away.

Tony grins, justifiably arrogant, and sits back on his heels and stretches his jaw to work out the ache. “What d’you think?”

Loki lifts his head and meets Tony’s eyes. “Exquisite,” he breathes, and if he could Tony would come just at that. “I will have you again. Now.”

“My lucky day,” Tony quips, and reaches out a hand to pump Loki back hard. “We’re gonna be here for a while, aren’t we?”

“You were the one who promised to suck me dry.”

Loki’s cock is soft and damp in his hand, but Tony can feel the blood running through it and the slow, slow increase in volume, the quick pulse against his own. He squeezes a little but it’s mostly stroking, persuading and pleading with it to get hard again.

But speaking of something else that’s hard, this floor is killing him. “Pass me a cushion?”

Loki’s eyes glimmer as he reaches out and grabs one and hands it over. “Usually, those kneeling to provide service to their king do not ask after their own comfort.”

Tony grins, willful and mischievous, and rocks up to shove the cushion under his knees. “Yeah, but who’d wanna fuck them?”

Shock crosses Loki’s eyes for the briefest instant before it’s chased out by glee. “Who indeed.”

Loki’s cock almost snaps hard, and Loki pushes his hand away before tangling his fingers in Tony’s hair and dragging him in, holding him about an inch away from his cock.

“No,” Loki says, “I far prefer you, Stark. To know you are here because you want to be, that serving me pleases you. You, selfish creature, have no thoughts that are not about your own need, and what you need is for me to come inside you, _because_ of you.”

Then Loki pulls him down onto his cock and Tony opens his mouth and lets him, and moans because oh god _yes_ does he need that, and feels Loki’s cock in his mouth, thick and huge, hears it muffle the sound he makes. It rests on his tongue, and the dripping head brushes the back of his throat, and it stretches his jaw wide because Tony’s keeping his teeth out of play - that hand tight in his hair means he’s not doing anything Loki doesn’t make him do.

“So? Shall I come for you, Stark? Shall I grace you with the gift of my release, and let you know once more that Loki’s pleasure is yours to command?”

Fuck, _fuck_ , how is Loki allowed to _say_ things like that? Tony’s burning with the filth Loki’s whispering into him, cock sore and struggling to get hard again, heart pounding in his ears. _Please,_ he wants to say, _please_ , wants to beg Loki for everything he’s offering and doesn’t care that he’s Tony Stark and never has to ask for anything, because Loki’s Loki Laufeyson and when the irresistible force meets the immovable object…

Tony gets laid. Sue him, he’s too busy to think of good metaphors.

He sucks instead, pleads silently, and Loki hums. “Ah, I see.”

His voice drops suddenly to a hiss, and Tony’s skin goes cold. “Then take me!”

Loki’s hips crack up and drive his cock down Tony’s throat, and Tony coughs and gasps and _breathes_ , just barely, crammed full of throbbing flesh, and Loki falls back and thrusts again. Loki’s leg comes up and hooks over his shoulder, pulling him closer and pinning him in place, and his hand fists in Tony’s hair.

Loki’s thrusts are quick and hard and Tony’s not even doing anything, held completely motionless - just the way Loki wants, almost a toy, a hole and nothing more.

But Loki’s falling apart, shaking with need, and his thrusts are random and uncontrolled and he’s lost, so lost, and Tony swells with pride and his eyes flutter shut to just feel what Loki’s doing to him.

The hot wet cock keeps pounding his mouth and throat, stretching him open, and the leg over his shoulder weighs him down and keeps him caged, and the hand in his hair is definitely painful and it’s holding him exactly where Loki wants him. Tony’s heart is racing, pulses all blurring into the next, and he sucks again and Loki’s shout rings in his ears.

Loki pulls back and out and _then_ his come hits Tony’s tongue, and marks his lips, and Tony’s eyes snap open to see Loki’s cock hovering before him and the last white strand shooting at his face and Tony almost explodes.

He gasps for breath, swallows what’s in his mouth and licks his lips clean and swallows that, too. Loki drops his leg back to the floor and untangles his fingers and removes his hand from Tony’s hair, and shifts his hips to sit further back on the couch.

Show’s over.

Tony sits upright again and rediscovers air, and Loki leans down and wipes a smear of come off the corner of Tony’s lips and feeds it to him. Tony licks Loki’s finger clean, tongue swirling over the rough calluses from his knives and the smooth edge of fingernail, and Loki slips his finger out again and cups Tony’s jaw in both hands.

“You look magnificent.”

Tony can imagine, on his knees, still hot from fucking Loki, breathless from all but choking on Loki’s cock.

All but.

Because Loki was careful, Loki was watching, Loki didn’t do anything Tony didn’t want and it’s just too much to ignore.

If Loki wanted to bring the Avengers down he wouldn’t have been nearly so kind - that, or he’d persuade Tony to fall in love with him and run off into the sunset or something. But this balance in the middle, sex for the sake of sex, Loki could get anywhere, and it doesn’t make sense that he’s here.

“Why me?”

Loki traces the edges of Tony’s beard slowly, eyes following his path. “Hmm?”

“You could have anyone you want, so why hook up with the guy who’s got every reason to try and kill you?”

Loki’s eyes slide to his, green and piercing and deep, and then his expression eases down to something less intense and more thoughtful. “For the same reason as you, I expect.”

“Because you’re a great fuck and other people are boring?”

Loki smiles, all teeth. “Precisely.”

“I can live with that.”

“Good.” Loki kind of pats him before pulling his hands away and leaning back into the couch. “I am quite fond of our arrangement.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony says. “Noticed that when you came three times in fifteen minutes. Stamina of the gods, wow am I jealous. Do not question the stamina of gods, you said, but I gotta.” Tony lifts a hand and lets his fingers hover over Loki’s cock like he’s about to grab him again. “Just how much stamina is that, exactly?”

Loki chuckles weakly and pushes his hand away. “Not quite that much.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “Are you _sure?_ I promised to suck you dry. How do I know you haven’t still got one in you?”

Loki stands and Tony shifts away to give him room, and then he stands up too, legs aching and back sore, feeling very, _very_ fucked out. Really, maybe it’s for the best that Loki’s turning down a third blowjob; an extremely brief shower and a long nap are sounding kind of appealing right now.

Loki collects his clothes and Tony stares shamelessly at the tight muscles in his ass when he bends over and the rippling in his back when he stands up again. “With a little more time, Anthony, but I do have other business today.”

Tony pouts as Loki starts dressing, becoming more composed and dignified by the second - but no less sexy, the bastard. He really knows how to work those scarves. “Well, _now_ I feel unwanted.”

Loki straightens, and meets his eyes, gaze serious. “My appetite is near insatiable, and _you_ can satisfy it. I very much want you.”

True. All the myths say Loki’s a horny bastard with a libido through the roof, and Tony’s his fix. And, a little unexpectedly, Loki’s a damn generous lover, so Tony’s got _no_ complaints.

He smirks. “Okay, then.” He gives a jaunty wave. “See you next time.”

He can’t decide whether to say _Loki_ or _Mr. Laufeyson_ , because is this still a sex-for-favors deal with a one-time hiccup or have they moved up into a sex-for-sex deal? He can’t even go halfway and use just _Laufeyson_ , because if he follows Loki’s pattern, calling Loki by his surname means Tony’s topping, and that’s definitely not what’s happening right now.

He doesn’t add a name at all - and neither does Loki. He doesn’t say anything, just nods and steps back and fades into gold light, and then into nothing.

Great. So he doesn’t know what they’re doing, either.

Tony knows what he _wants._ He wants to screw Loki until his cock falls off, and then have Loki magically reattach it for him. He wants to be the one who has the power to fuck Loki into mellow relaxation and make him quit with the mass mayhem. He wants to get as much sex as he can take, and more, until it’s too much even for him and Loki makes him take that, too.

But it’s also kind of cool to have a magic consultant on hand. Amazingly useful. Tony can’t imagine how exasperated Jarvis is going to be now that convincing Tony to leave the lab because there’s no more coffee isn’t going to cut any ice.

So if they have unbelievably hot sex, and trade tech for magic on the side?

That should work.

He’ll propose it next time they meet up.

If Loki leaves him capable of coherent speech, that is.


	5. Drink

Heroes do not have sex with villains.

Tony is a hero.

Tony has sex with villains.

He just broke basic logic.

Tony groans, and rolls his empty tumbler across the bar. He knows how to solve the logical tangle, it’s obvious - Tony is not a hero, and he’s warned the others of that often enough. He’s selfish, he puts himself and his interests first, he’s not SHIELD’s lackey and he never will be, he saves the world because it’s the only world he’s got and he has to live in it, and if he’s trading sex for favors with Loki Laufeyson then that’s nobody’s business but his.

Theirs.

Only it might not just be a business arrangement anymore. They kind of broke that when they finished their business to everybody’s satisfaction and went ahead with some unrelated sex to everybody’s _extreme_ satisfaction.

It’s pretty much what Tony’s been wanting all along, casual sex, only now that he comes down to it it’s a little awkward to ask for. Somehow it’s easier to prostitute himself for a shot of Loki’s magic than to call the god and ask if he’s up for a little fun. Go figure.

Maybe it’s because they both know it’s damn dangerous to _want_ things. Tossing sex on the table as payment, that’s one thing, but actually _wanting_ it - okay, admitting to wanting it, saying right out loud that _I want to fuck you_ \- never goes well. 

Tony rolls his tumbler back to his other hand. It drips a trail of something amber and expensive across the bar. Tony’s not drunk, far from it, but he has reached the depressing stage where he’s had just enough to start feeling down but not so much that drinking _more_ seems like a good idea. He’s stuck, and he should probably go to bed and sleep it off except that he’s thinking too much about Loki, and the last thing he needs is to start _dreaming_ about him. He already fills Tony’s every _waking_ moment, but Tony’s not going to let long pale fingers and sharp green eyes and inky black hair start chasing him into unconsciousness, too.

Which begs the question of _why the hell not?_ Would he prefer the nightmares? The dreams of vaguely unsettling things that he doesn’t particularly enjoy and the best part is how he mostly forgets them in the morning? Why _not_ dream about Loki?

Because it’s moving into shitty romcom territory, that’s why. This isn’t a deal where they think they’re not in a relationship and suddenly find out they were all along. Getting to know Loki’s cock in intimate detail does absolutely nothing to tell Tony about Loki’s heart or even his mind.

Romance has _no_ place in what he’s got with Loki, and dear god it’s _fantastic_. Loki’s definitely the best he’s ever had and there’s still loads of stuff they haven’t tried yet, and after a thousand years of slutting around Loki’s bound to have a massive repertoire. Tony’s _got_ to explore this informal d/s thing - Loki would look stunning cuffed to the bed with a vibrator up his ass, and Loki seems like the type to hold Tony’s rights to pleasure in the palm of his hand and threaten to drop them at any minute.

So yeah. They wouldn’t have _time_ to get their feelings involved even if they wanted to. They’re far too busy actually _enjoying_ themselves.

And now he’s getting hard in his pants.

Tony sighs, and drops a hand to massage himself softly, just enough to keep it building, because why the hell not? He might as well try to jack the thoughts of Loki out of his head and see if he can get to sleep, or get high enough on endorphins to think it’d be fun to drink some more. 

He squeezes himself gently, and if his eyes flutter shut and he sees a pale long-fingered hand reaching out for him instead? That’s okay. He can fantasize. 

“Loki…” he moans, breathes, and feels the throbbing of his arousal starting to chase out the haze from the alcohol. The edges shift into focus, centered on his cock and the rhythmic, languid caresses of a god.

“Why,” Loki would lean over his shoulder to purr in his ear, “you are desperate, aren’t you?”

Tony can almost hear the rich, smooth voice, layered tones of menace and mischief and lust. Tony wants to strip that voice apart, catalog what makes Loki moan or gasp or wail or scream. 

“I had no idea you thought of me quite so highly,” Loki continues, and there’s warm currents of air over the side of his face and Tony should probably close that window.

“Mmm, yeah,” Tony says back, “and now you know, what are you going to do about it?”

Loki hums. “I shall have to think of a suitable reward for your dedication.”

“Yeah? I bet you give the _best_ rewards.”

“I _am_ a god, and not immune to worship. I can be very kind to those who serve me well. But… There are punishments, too,” Loki says, voice lowering. “Should you stay too long from me. Should you fail to please me. Most certainly should you take your pleasure from me and not return me mine. I will punish you for all these things, Stark, and you will come crawling back the very next day.”

For more punishment? Or to beg Loki’s forgiveness? Either, _both_ , what the hell.

“You _are_ so pretty on your knees,” Loki murmurs, and then there’s a touch of a hand to his cheek and that was _not_ in Tony’s head-

His eyes fly open and he snaps his head to the side and stares at Loki, right in front of him, just inches away, a hand hovering over Tony’s where he’s still gripping his cock through his pants and another in front of Tony’s face. He blinks, and Loki’s still here, and his words are settling into his brain like syrup, the sound solid and real. “You’re _here_.”

“I am.” Loki arches an eyebrow. “Did you think I was not?”

“Thought I was hallucinating. I may be just a tiny little bit drunk.”

Loki scoffs and his fingers twitch and _something_ rolls through Tony’s body, a wave of clear blue ocean, and suddenly he’s sharp and level like he hasn’t touched a drop. “Okay. Or maybe not. Not a fan of alcohol?”

“It makes you far less pleasing to fuck.”

“Right, fair enough.” Does that mean he’s going to get fucked? Hopefully. Very, very hopefully. “Is that what you’re here for?”

Loki’s eyes go shifty and he looks away, and his tongue flicks over his lips but he doesn’t say anything, and wow is he avoiding the simple answer.

Fair enough. Tony’s been doing nothing but for the past half-hour. 

Or two months, depending on how you look at it.

Loki’s eyes light on something behind him, and then he looks back at Tony, cool and composed, easy lies sitting on his tongue. “You still owe me a drink.”

That? That’s all he can come up with? “You’re just scrambling for an excuse, aren’t you?”

The green drops down again and hesitates before coming back up. “Perhaps.”

Tony smirks. “Then don’t steal all the good ones. Leave me a couple for coming to see you.” He slips out of his chair and ducks under the bar to find something god-worthy. “Just remember that getting drunk makes you less pleasing to fuck.”

Loki fingers drum on the bar above his head. “You’ll not be fucking me tonight, Stark. I intend to leave you incoherent and mindless, have no doubt.”

Tony cracks his head on a shelf and breathes deeply and forbids himself to come just at Loki’s promises. He grabs a bottle of top-notch something and holds it up. “This good enough for your divine highness?”

“I suppose so,” Loki says, and there’s the sound of him settling on a stool. Tony straightens up and fetches him a clean tumbler - though if Loki wasn’t feeling so dominant, it’d be tempting to offer him Tony’s used one and see if he’d take it - and gives him two fingers of whatever’s in the bottle. 

Loki takes it from him and sips delicately, and Tony steps back a little to get a better look than he’s had all night. 

Loki’s in Asgardian gear again, no armor, just leather, this time with a little more green and less black than his usual, a shorter coat only coming down to mid-thigh, and without the multiple split tails he normally wears. If the cut’s simple, the design isn’t; it’s elaborate and complex and intricate, sharp gold embroidery and folds and things. It’s got a gorgeously high collar, framing his long neck, and Tony wants to slip his hand between the leather and Loki’s skin and squeeze.

But he wants Loki to dom the hell out of him more. 

Loki’s fingers flex on the tumbler and he lifts it to his thin, straight lips again; they part ever so slightly to let the liquor slide between them. Loki lets it settle on his tongue for a moment before swallowing, his throat rippling, visible between the open edges of his collar, and he licks his lips thoughtfully. 

“That’s good, Stark,” he says, almost surprised but mostly contemplative, like he’s reevaluating his whole stance on pathetic Midgardian drinks. 

“Great,” Tony says. Now what exactly _is_ it? He pokes the bottle to turn it around but of course it doesn’t have a label. Anyone fancy enough to be drinking whatever this is should already know what it is, apparently.

He drops the stopper back into the neck instead, and tucks it away under the bar in a corner that he hereby designates as _containing things Loki likes_. Maybe he’ll have Loki magically refill it sometime. 

He straightens back up in time to see Loki toss the rest of his glass back in one smooth move, and set his tumbler down beside Tony’s, still lying drunkenly - hah - on its side. “Shall we, then?”

“Let’s.”

Loki grins at him and sets a hand on his shoulder, and teleports them to-

Tony’s bedroom.

That’s definitely a step up and away from where they were before - they’ve fucked in Tony’s lab and Loki’s living room and Tony’s living room, but this is the first time they’ve set foot near a bed. Should be fun, then.

Loki pushes Tony a step away, and those green eyes rake over his body. “Strip.”

“Ooh,” Tony teases, “that was fast,” but his hands are already tugging his shirt over his head.

“I take what I want.”

And he wants _Tony._

It’s almost too awesome for words.

Loki’s gaze is sharp and focused as Tony steps out of his shoes and peels off his socks, unzips his jeans and slides them down his legs. It’s still impossible to look sexy while doing this and he doesn’t know how Loki manages it, but he gets a bit back when he palms his hard cock through his boxers and sees Loki’s pupils dilate and hears his breathing quiver. 

“Oh, you like that,” Tony says, watching Loki watching him, and he goes a bit harder, a bit faster, puts on a show for Loki, hand movements nice and clear. The silk on his shimmering nerves feels fantastic and he can feel the world starting to tunnel down around his cock again. “You like me getting myself off for you?”

Loki’s fixed stare gives him away completely, but he shrugs and speaks arrogantly like he couldn’t give a damn. “It’s your choice when and by whose hand you come, Stark, but I’ll not halt my pleasure just because you’ve already found yours.”

Tony groans, and fumbles to grip the base of his cock hard and cut his orgasm in half and stuff it back down in his balls, because he’s _not_ ready for it yet. But the image of himself lying helpless under Loki, fucked-out and exhausted and sated beyond measure while Loki keeps going, slow and deep, maybe for hours, is not something Tony can easily ignore.

But Loki’s worth a little wait and he really wants to come from Loki’s cock buried in him, so he breathes deeply through the fog of arousal and drops his hand away and takes his boxers off. “Message received.”

Loki grins again, and waves his hands and his clothes shine with gold light, and when the light fades Loki’s naked.

Tony pouts, because that’s just cheating. “Aw, I don’t get to strip you, too? You’re not gonna boss me around?”

Loki fixes him with a _very_ cold stare. “What makes you think you’re worthy of touching my garments?”

Tony so, so wants to melt under that stare, wants to drop to his knees and beg to be told what he has to do to be considered worthy. Only he’s Tony Stark, and he doesn’t do that sort of thing just because Loki’s got a sexy voice, and it’s more fun to push back and make Loki put some effort into shoving Tony down. “I’m good enough to touch your _cock_. You’ve got your priorities way out of whack if you’ll let someone handle _that_ and not your clothes.”

“Considering _your_ priorities, Stark, I hardly think I’ll suffer a lecture on that subject from you.”

Loki tilts his head, making the ends of his black hair caress his shoulder, and prowls forward slowly. “In fact, you’re bold to think you may lecture me at all.”

Tony grins without a hint of submission or remorse. “Ooh, are you going to _punish_ me? Have I been bad? Do I need permission to speak now?”

Loki growls, and then Tony’s wrist’s caught in a hand and he’s spun around, and his back slams into Loki’s chest and the god’s other arm is wrapped around his abs, holding him in place. The long fingers flex over Tony’s wrist and almost crush his bones together, fixed like a manacle.

But he knows he’s doing good because Loki’s rock hard cock is stabbing between his cheeks, and his own is throbbing desperately between his thighs.

“You greedy thing,” Loki murmurs, kind and cruel at the same time, and Tony shivers. “I should leave you untouched and let your pleas for my attention fall on deaf ears. I should refuse you my presence until you’re incoherent with need for me.”

He shoves his nose behind Tony’s ear and inhales hard, and sighs out a breath over Tony’s cheek and jaw. “Consider yourself fortunate I have no wish to punish myself for your mistreadings.”

“Yes, considered, feeling very fortunate, fuck me please?”

Loki’s arm around his torso moves and his hand comes up to wrap Tony’s throat, not hard, a warning or a caress or both. “You _are_ bold. Bold and arrogant and demanding.”

_Same to you, pal._ “Yep. Just the way you like me.”

Loki growls, and then he jerks Tony off his feet and strides over to the bed, Tony dangling from the hand around his neck and gasping for air, fighting the burning in his throat, Loki’s legs bumping his with every step, and then the world spins and he’s face-down in the sheets with Loki’s hand in his back holding him still. Tony coughs, and breathes in, and that was _not_ the hottest five seconds of his life, okay, it absolutely wasn’t.

“Mind you, I like you that way, too,” he says, and Loki growls again and there’s a hand over Tony’s mouth.

“I will have your silence.”

Two fingers shove between Tony’s lips and press his tongue down flat, and reach almost to the back of his throat before they stop, buried to the bottom knuckle. Tony groans around them and hears the sound muffled, and Loki huffs and presses the tip of a third against Tony’s lips. “Must I give you more?”

Tony shakes his head and breathes through his nose, and behind and above him Loki makes a pleased noise. Then the fingers of his other hand are prying between Tony’s cheeks, and when one reaches his asshole and draws a ring around it it’s slick with Loki’s magic lube. 

Then Loki rams two fingers in at once and Tony shudders, sudden aching pain before it fades into a too-intense stretch; he bites back a moan and then locks his jaw so he doesn’t bite Loki’s fingers, makes himself suck instead, gives his mouth something to do, and Loki chuckles and twitches the fingers in his ass like he’s stroking Tony.

He keeps moving them, stretching and rubbing and getting Tony loose and wet, and Tony breathes and sucks and relaxes, and stays silent. Because it _is_ hard to talk with fingers in your mouth, and he’s definitely going to turn this one around on Loki, slip him a nice green gag next time Tony feels like it - no, he’ll make Loki choose between a gag and a cock ring, that’ll have him squirming-

But Tony’s the one squirming now, writhing at the third finger working its way into his ass, getting him nice and wide, gasping and panting around Loki’s fingers and unable to even turn his head to find where the god is - leaning over him somewhere, and there’s a weight in the mattress by his side, but that’s not enough. Which part of him is Loki watching? Staring at his fingers, shining with slick, disappearing into Tony’s ass? Or the ones in his mouth stretching his lips apart? Is he even watching at all, or just getting Tony ready like it’s an unpleasant but necessary _chore?_

God, yes, he can picture Loki like that, completely apathetic and uncaring, only prepping this weak mortal body to take him because if he damages it then he’s got nothing to fuck next time, his face expressionless and his hands cold and methodical.

But he can also see Loki with his eyes burning, fixed on the ring of muscle where Tony’s body meets his, where Tony swallows his fingers, Loki licking his lips at the thought of finally getting his cock in there instead, of looking down at Tony taking _that_. 

He’s so hard that his weight against the mattress hurts, that he wants to roll over and get some room so his cock isn’t crushed flat, but Loki’s not about to let him move and Tony’s not about to give up and ask. 

He hears Loki’s satisfied hum, and the fingers pull out of his ass and the ones in his mouth twitch. “You’ll stay quiet for me, won’t you?”

Tony nods, and licks Loki’s fingers as they’re dragged out, and breathes freely for a second before he feels Loki’s hands go to his hips, slick with spit on one side and lube on the other, and drag him down the bed a few inches until Loki’s satisfied with his position.

Loki puts a hand on each of his inner thighs and spreads him open, and then a finger plays with Tony’s balls for a mad, whirling second before it’s gone again.

Loki’s weight shifts to settle between Tony’s legs, and his hands appear on either side of Tony’s head, bracing against the mattress; Loki’s legs are stretched out behind Tony’s, his hips hovering just above Tony’s ass, torso hanging over Tony’s back. 

The head of Loki’s cock nudges at Tony’s crack and Loki hisses. “Part yourself for me.”

Tony clenches his jaw and grabs a cheek in either hand and spreads them wide, and Loki’s cock slips between them and finds his hole and pushes in.

Loki goes slow, so slow, hips working in little shallow twitches, the huge hot length of him pressing inside bit by bit, and Tony’s gasping as his body makes room, organs crawling out of the way as Loki fills him up. Loki keeps going, deeper and deeper, impossibly deeper, and Tony shudders and rocks back to take him, take him _all_ because he can’t stand the suspense. 

Loki slides in further and then his hips brush Tony’s hands, and Tony drags them out of the way and Loki gets in a little further still. And _then_ Loki’s hips are pressed flush to Tony’s ass - he’s done, Tony’s done, and Loki’s motionless above him, breathing hard and heavy, and his hair caresses Tony’s back; Loki’s head must be down, overwhelmed with what he’s feeling - overwhelmed with _Tony._

Tony grins, because Loki’s going to regret that little tell - he may be playing silent but Loki never told him to be _good._

Tony flexes his fingers, and lifts his hand and settles it on Loki’s back, an affectionate pat, that’s all, strokes down over the taut curve of his ass and the crease where it meets his thigh; and then he moves his hand down between Loki’s legs and finds his balls and _squeezes._

Loki shouts and jerks his hips, cock plunging deeper, but Tony holds him, locks Loki inside him, and Loki hisses and then there’s bright deep sharp pain in his shoulder and Tony howls, and he lets go and Loki bites _harder_ and _then_ Loki’s teeth come out of his flesh.

“Try that again, Stark, and you’ll regret it for days.”

It’s a promise way too good to turn down.

Tony stretches out his arms and finds the headboard, braces himself and pushes back onto Loki’s cock. Loki snarls, and his hips snap away and forward again and Tony’s whole body jars with the impact, and it is so _on_.

Tony plants one hand in the bed and when Loki fucks into him again he lifts a bit so he can clench and twist his hips, and Loki pays him back for that one with a hand on his head, shoving it flat into the mattress and keeping him pinned.

Tony reaches up and grabs a handful of Loki’s hair and pulls, and Loki grabs his wrist and bends it back and sends pain lancing through his whole arm and that’s it, he’s done, Tony lets go and goes limp and moans surrender. 

Loki drops his wrist and his arm hits the bed and stays there, and Loki chuckles. “Better.”

Then Loki changes gears, fucks him hard and _fast_ , stroke after stroke after stroke, and Tony’s lost because it’s all way too much for him to keep up with, a storm raging inside him and Loki’s cock pounding all coherent thought into dust, and Tony writhes and gasps and bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood.

Loki’s hipbones are leaving bruises on his ass and his fingernails are digging into Tony’s scalp and his cock’s almost ripping him open but Tony doesn’t regret a second, and he screws his eyes shut and blocks out everything he’s feeling for a minute to clench down one more time and shove his hips back into Loki’s.

Loki’s body spasms and he comes deep inside Tony, on and on and on, and Tony squeezes bit by bit, milks it out of him, and Loki comes _again_ , hips jerking against Tony’s, cock squishing through the come pooling inside him.

He pants heavily, and finally lifts his hand from Tony’s head - weight, but not too much weight, because Loki’s careful with his toys. Loki pulls out slowly, dragging the come with him, and Tony feels it seeping out of his ass and trickling down over his balls, and Loki laughs softly and then he’s wiping his cock clean against Tony’s thighs and Tony almost, almost comes - probably would, if Loki touched his cock even once, but he can’t quite manage it without. 

Loki crawls sideways and drops to the bed beside him, and gives Tony a smirk. “Coming, Stark, or are you too exhausted for even that?”

Tony scoffs, and rolls up onto his side and feels _everything_ Loki’s done to him, the soreness of his crushed head and the bite in his shoulder and the burn in his wrist and the bruising on his ass and the bone-deep ache of a hard fucking, all his muscles worked up and strained from pushing back, but he’s definitely not too out of it to come.

He sees Loki’s eyes resting on his cock with more than a little interest, and oh boy is he going to get some of his own back.

“I dunno,” he says, and rolls over onto his back, one arm folded under his head and the other resting on his torso, way too high to be anywhere near his cock. “I’ve come an awful lot in the past couple weeks. Might not bother, tonight.”

He flicks his gaze sideways to see Loki’s eyes widen a little before he fights a mask of indifference back on, and oh yeah, Tony’s got him.

Loki huffs. “As you wish.”

“As _you_ wish, Laufeyson,” Tony corrects, and moves his hand lower and runs it up and down his thigh, watches Loki’s eyes dragged along to follow it. “I remember what you looked like when I was standing there getting myself hard for you. You _wanted_ that. You wanted me to come without even touching you - like just _thinking_ about you was enough.”

Loki _whimpers_ , tiny and smothered but definitely there, and Tony grins and rewards him by wrapping his fingers around his cock, arm angled away so Loki can see.

“You looked me in the eye last time we were here and said that I got off on getting _you_ off, and that’s kind of a strange idea to have - if you didn’t know what it feels like for yourself.”

Loki’s hand starts inching across the space between them, like he’s thinking of taking over if Tony doesn’t move fast enough for him.

Tony moves his own hand, up and down, shivers and breathes and makes himself focus on tearing Loki to shreds. “So what do you think? You want to know that you’re good enough to just _lie_ there and have me call out your name? You want to watch me come from thinking about you? You want to know that I think you’re worth my time?”

“Anthony, please,” Loki moans, begs, and Tony smirks and twists his wrist and works his fingers up and down, flexing gently.

“Please, what, Laufeyson?”

“I want to see you come.”

Tony grins at the ceiling, and then closes his eyes and rubs his thumb over his slit. “Keep talking. Give me something to work with.”

Loki’s breath shudders, and there’s the wet sound of him licking his lips, and Tony stops his hand, won’t move until Loki plays along.

“Anthony,” Loki says again, and Tony runs his fingers down until he’s circling the base and lifts them up again; and pauses.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

Tony gives him a single finger making rings around the head, and slowly spiraling downwards.

“I want you to come.”

Tony lowers his hand to his balls, and further back, and wipes up the come dripping out of his ass and smoothes it over his cock.

“For _me_. Because of _me_.”

He grips his cock hard and Loki’s come squishes between his fingers, and Tony shudders at the pressure and loosens up just a little because he won’t come yet, Loki hasn’t _earned_ that yet.

“You work yourself with your own hand but you think of mine - do you know what that does to me?”

He pumps quicker, up and down and up and down, fast, and god Loki had better keep playing along because Tony can’t take much more of this, the dam’s going to burst any minute.

“Your pleasure is breathtaking, you cannot know how _glorious_ you look.”

Oh, that’s good - “That’s more like it, Laufeyson.” Tony moans his name for that, lets it slip between his lips and hang shivering between them.

“I beg of you!”

Tony grips and twists and gives Loki what he wants, and he washes away with the surge from the broken dam, crashing over him, and blinks when he hits the shore and finds himself again.

He aches all over - it was kind of a lot to ask of himself after what Loki put him through, but he glances sideways and it’s all worth it.

Loki’s eyes are glowing, drinking in the sight of Tony’s hand and cock covered in their mingled come, and he reaches out and runs a finger over Tony’s skin, wipes up some of the fluid and brings it to his lips.

His eyes flutter shut as he sucks his finger into his mouth, and Tony shudders at the sight, the lips wrapping the thin finger and the hollowing of his already hollow cheeks - his cheekbones stand out like knives. 

_I did that_.

Loki’s eyes open again and meet his and Loki’s clearly thinking the same thing about him.

It’s bizarre, the way the power flows between them - take this, just now, was Tony indulging Loki or did Loki _make_ Tony come for him? Tony was aiming for the former and by the desperation, not control, in Loki’s voice he succeeded, but that’s not really a reliable measure.

But it’s just as awesome if Tony doesn’t understand a second of it, and it doesn’t really matter how it works anyway.

He doesn’t know how _any_ of this works, but that’s okay as long as someone does.

He pulls his hand off his cock, finally, wipes it clean in the sheets and shifts closer to Loki. “So what is this, exactly?”

Loki, cool and composed again, arches an eyebrow. “Do you not know?”

Tony shrugs. “I’m up for anything that doesn’t involve murder. But you strike me as the picky type, so name your terms.”

Loki hums softly in thought, and Tony feels it vibrate through the mattress and up into his chest. “I give you as much pleasure as you give me, and I expect the same in return.” 

“Accepted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everybody who kudosed and commented on this, you guys blew me away <3
> 
> Beta'd by [Haldane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Haldane/pseuds/Haldane).
> 
> For more on my writing, please visit my [Tumblr](http://ao3-arkada.tumblr.com).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fluid](https://archiveofourown.org/works/785850) by [hannahrhen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen)
  * [Ragnarök](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657460) by [i_am_a_mole_and_i_live_in_a_hole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_a_mole_and_i_live_in_a_hole/pseuds/i_am_a_mole_and_i_live_in_a_hole)




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